Frame Up
by purduepup
Summary: Kagome was an FBI field agent, now forced into the office for unknown reasons. Inuyasha is a hotshot assassin in the demon mafia who's known nothing but this life since childhood. But with one chance encounter and large misunderstanding, her secret life and his sorry existence tangle. Now they're on the run, on the news, and hot on their enemy's trail—their only allies each other.
1. A Forecast for Rain

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Inuyasha, or anything of Rumiko's for that matter. So put down the gun, Takahashi; I've just removed myself from you and your lawyer's hit list. Like the hit lists that might appear in this story, which is **rated **"**M" for language, suggestive themes, violence, and sexuality**! Go me, for my great writing and—! *gets shot at* SHIT, NEVER MIND!

**Disclaimer2:** _Full-Metal Alchemist _inspired this chapter's title.

**(PS: Demons age like humans in this. Ya dig?)**

_Summary: _Kagome Higurashi is an agent for the FBI, exceeding most others in the ranks, even though she spends most of her hours behind a desk or taking photos due to her early, temporary, forced "retirement" from the field. The reason for her break is unknown, depressing adrenaline-junkie Kagome even further as she's forced to dream of something more lively than paperwork. Meanwhile, Inuyasha is a hotshot in the mafia, more notorious than any other mobster, and a professional of firearms, swords, and mortal combat, going on assassination missions almost every night. He breathes his job, knowing all there is to know in almost every situation, though his human heart has its regrets. But in an investigation and party gone wrong, both are set up and labeled as traitors, shunned by their own sides; for their "betrayals", the FBI sets on arresting and punishing Kagome while the mafia's desperate to end Inuyasha's life. Kagome and Inuyasha begin to depend on each other in order to live through this nightmare, having only a few others as their allies as they're on the run, on the news, and hot on their enemy's trail, all the while sharing a majorly rocky relationship. But will things take a turn for the worst, the stakes getting even higher, the tension striking hot, when they unexpectedly, unwillingly begin to fall in love…?

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This story is dedicated to MegamanSora,_  
_who's been asking for this story for quite a while.

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_**FRAME-UP**_

_**Act I: A Forecast for Rain**_

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_**Scene 1: "The Feminine Voice"**_

_**(October 1st, Right Before Midnight,  
on the Abandoned Downtown Area Streets)**_

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The target ran hard, fast, and endlessly, shooting almost incoherent, unimportant words into his cell phone, trying to get a message across to someone he called "honey". His chaser didn't understand why the idiot wasn't calling the police, but he did know all that he could hear was that the man was telling the person, most likely female, "I'm going to die." He informed her of where he was and how much he loved her. All the chaser could think was that if this chick was gonna go to the target's location, then that saved the man's chaser the trouble of putting his body out in the open, didn't it?

The target ran until there was no more air left to breathe. He ran until his muscles cramped and his body not only ran out of oxygen, but water as well. He ran with all his might until pain shot throughout him for a millisecond before he felt nothing. Despite all that, the main cause for his stop was not exhaustion, but in fact a bullet to the neck.

A nearly silent "damn" could be heard through the stony air.

His killer stood over his body, actually _panting _for some air. Never before had a mortal weakened him, much less ran so far during a chase. It'd actually drained some of the assassin's energy—something that only happened with demons, who were able to scuttle over water if they wanted to. Demons, after all, were the strongest beings on Earth, half-demons being right next to them and on top of humans. But under certain circumstances, the assassin was much weaker tonight, thus was equal to his target's strength and abilities. And that made his mission more difficult to complete.

After stuffing his gun back into his ripped jeans, the assassin quickly sent a message to his group, announcing his success. Then, still gasping, he looked down at the dead man with black hair and wide blue eyes. Blood seeped into his clothing, soaking it up from the ground and from his skin as the liquid trailed down his flat back. The assassin had to say, he felt slightly sorry for killing the guy. Though he didn't know anything about the deceased man except his appearance and regular locations, the much-alive man shook his head, shocked that this man's only fault had probably been his job and some mix-ups. But, being in the mafia and all, it didn't surprise the hired gun that such a seemingly innocent man was killed for the smallest of reasons.

_Stupid human emotions, _he scoffed._ They're making me weak. _If there'd been so much as a slither of the moon that night, the scene would've appeared gloomy. But, with having to kill people as much as he did, he faced death numerous times and shouldn't have felt any remorse for his actions.

But he did.

A voice cried out into the night, asking for the probably-dead man to respond to them—it most likely belonged to the girl he'd been talking to, wanting to find him before it was "too late". Of course, without his demonic senses, the assassin was unaware of how far the woman was away, and if his target was really dead yet. With a few glances back at his maybe-deceased target, the concealed assassin wearing all black pounced off into the night, only to have a strand of his long hair catch onto something. Cursing that he was in a hurry, he ripped away, continuing his rampage by jumping from rooftop to rooftop, regretting ever joining this business in the first place.

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_**Scene 2: "A Love for Danger"**_

_**(Earlier that Day, October 1st, 3:00 PM,  
in the Bullet Room at FBI HQ)**_

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Echoes of bullets rang through the air, though the shooter barely registered them with her soundproof headphones on. The deadeye woman was petite and slim, at first glance confusing her enemies with her oddly feminine and feeble appearance, though her skills with firearms showed strongly otherwise. Dressed in a sharp pencil skirt and white blouse, she screamed womanhood whereas her wavy, waist-length raven locks were hand-attracting and her warm yet vivid chocolate, sapphire-flecked eyes made people melt on the spot. Overall, she was charmingly attractive, though the smallest details declared her not weak, but able to take care of herself. An independent crack-shot with the appearance of a damsel-in-distress—how interesting; one would obtain great entertainment from that thought if they didn't feel distressed.

She barely panted for air from the many types of recoil she'd received, though some air escaped her full pink lips at the strength of her shots. The figure standing before her was a dummy made of cloth and wood, but her aim didn't fail in the slightest; the bullets were located in central pressure points, where blood would poor out from a wound at top-speed and in large capacities. These spots included vital organs, the head, the neck, and many other places with capillaries and nerves that caused the greatest damage to one's body when put under immense stress. Taking off her soundproof headphones after the last shot, Kagome Higurashi sighed, looking at the calendar on the stone wall of her workplace's, as she liked to call it, Bullet Room.

_October first. _She bit her lip upon recognizing the familiar date. Today was her father's birthday, if everyone had marked off the dates correctly and it wasn't telling the wrong day once again. _Maybe I should call his cell phone, offer to take him out to dinner, escape from the training room for just a few moments…?_

No. She couldn't do that, because 1) that would be disobeying regulations, and 2) her friend Sango Taijiya's job was to listen to phone calls, even cellular ones made in the area. If Sango heard the agent making a personal call, Kagome would no doubt be in trouble. Sango wouldn't tell, of course—she was too good of a best friend to be a tattletale—but Kagome would never hear the end of it. _Why were you clogging up my lines, Higurashi? _Hmm? _Did you ever once think, "Maybe Sango could get fired for not telling about my call' or "Maybe some intense conversation is going on and she needs to listen to that instead of being distracted by my 'How are you today, Mom?'_ _conversation"? I didn't think so, you ungrateful little bit—_

Yeah. Just yeah.

Not wanting to face the deadly wrath of Sango, Kagome decided she would wait until the day was over to contact her father and wish him a happy birthday. It would, after all, not only benefit her best friend, but her own health as well.

Kagome used to be a field agent—a damn good one at that—but despite her awesome, kickass skills, it seemed the FBI was getting tired of her "awesome, kickass skills", thus forcing her into deskwork and the rank of "agent". The closest thing she got to using her "awesome, kickass skills" was this training area, where she could push her body to its limit and more.

Sango called it an early retirement, saying that she's done so much for the agency that they felt thankful enough to give her a job that'd cool her down and keep her safe. That was the thing, though. Kagome didn't _want _to be cooled down _or_ be safe. She wanted to run around, pull the trigger, fight bad guys, and be in the face of _danger_, damn it, not sit in an office chair, type on a keyboard, wrestle the copier, and be in the face of _a computer._

It wasn't fair. Not even close to it.

But, despite the fact she was humiliated by being randomly lowered in the ranks and now stuck behind a big, fat, boring desk, Kagome was happy about one thing: Now that she didn't go out on missions, she could concentrate on her beautiful camerawork. She loved taking pictures, so maybe she could focus on that more now that she had fewer hours at work…?

Aw, who was she _kidding_?

She wanted so bad to have adrenalin pumping through her blood, the feeling of excitement rush through her core. She didn't want to get mere paper cuts; surprisingly, she'd take a bullet wound any time of day. No, she wasn't a daredevil, and no, she was never the one who took risks during missions. But, god, how much she loved going on missions… It gave her a meaningful purpose, knowing that whenever she went on one, putting her life on the line, she was helping someone out there, whether they were a neighbor, friend, or stranger. All in all, it felt nice being in the company of danger, for it gave her a feeling a stupid oak desk could never even come close to producing.

She dumped all her gun-training equipment on the racks, not bothering to notice the presence behind her. When she heard someone else's somewhat-awkward breathing pattern, Kagome turned around to face her worst nightmare.

"Agent Higurashi," the friendly brown-haired boy chirped, smiling wide.

Kagome returned it, but not with as much enthusiasm. "Special Agent Hojo," she muttered, still trying to keep up an act. It was hard to be so nice to such a dense boy, but _no, _she just had to care about people's feelings. Plus, she hated formalities between friends at work. Why not just call each other by their names instead of their jobs? "I thought you were going over this morning's case…?" And by _this morning_, she meant somewhere after midnight.

"I am," he assured her, and Kagome raised an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue. "Well, but, um…" The lowly special agent blushed, turning Kagome's forced smile to a wavering thin line. "We kind of need your expertise."

"Why do you need me?" she asked, not really understanding the reason behind Hojo's request. Yes, she'd solved things before, but she hadn't done it alone; her father was always the smart one, the reincarnated Sherlock Holmes. Of course, she hadn't told the Federal Bureau of Investigation about her father's assistance in some of their complicated cases; they'd either want to recruit him, kill him, praise her, or fire and kill her. After all, an agent shouldn't go to non-agents for help on their cases…

Hojo finally answered in a murmur, "This thing's much deeper than our department has ever gotten into." That was enough to make Kagome abandon her belongings and follow him down the hallway as he explained the situation. "We think we may have a serial killer on our hands, or an assassin with a distinct pattern."

Kagome nodded, showing that she was listening as she zipped by her personal secretary Nazuna's desk. The lower-down handed Kagome her usual coffee mixture before going back to answering the phone. Even though Kagome herself now did deskwork, that didn't mean she lost her past job's benefits.

Oh, but how she wished to be out on the field again. Now _that _was a benefit most needed.

"We don't know who could be behind all these murders, or why it was all these people," Hojo continues. "Forensic Specialist Yamainu's working right now on the evidence, though there are more questions than answers."

"There's always more questions than answers," Kagome mumbled to herself, annoyed by how Hojo wouldn't stop reminding her how _mysterious _this whole mission was. Honestly, Kagome had seen weirder stuff at her family's shrine back in Japan, with demons being unleashed from scrolls and charms, courtesy of her meddlesome little brother and fanatical grandfather, who hadn't caught on that most demonic things should not be touched and fiddled with. But then again, this _was_ the FBI, the top dogs of the U.S.A. And, believe it or not, there were always weird things out there…

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_**Scene 3: "Bad to the Bone"**_

_**(October 1st, 3:00 PM,  
in an Unidentified Warehouse)**_

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Footsteps echoed through the mostly emptied hallways of a high society, though there wasn't any formal _click-click _of high heels or _rub-scrape _of fancy black flats. The lone person walking through these halls was barefoot, simply wearing red gym shorts. He was not only without shoes, but also underwear and a shirt—a sight any heterosexual woman would drool over at first glance—and his stunning silver, hip-length hair was unkempt, wild, while his molten-gold, sharp eyes spoke volumes of emotions. Two triangular dog ears flicked at the top of his head, their seeming innocent balancing out his rough features, as sounds greeted him whether he wanted them to or not. He could've done without hearing men fuck their women, screaming profanities and explicit wordings on different floors of the building, and would've enjoyed it if the deafening sounds the mechanics made in the basement with their tools was less boisterous. But there were pros to having great hearing, and listening in on important conversations was one of them. Sadly, the building's "important" rooms had been soundproofed to avoid such an idiotic error, making the half–dog demon Inuyasha even further frustrated. The worst part of wandering the halls alone was not the unbearable noises or obnoxiously loud people, though.

_They have no fucking _ramen_. HOW THE FUCK CAN YOU _NOT _HAVE _RAMEN_?_

Either thought alone was enough to set off his temper and patience, which were never known to be great in the first place. He continued his trip down to his workplace's gym, which contained weights and contraptions of various structure, abilities, strengths, and usefulness. If he hadn't already mastered everything there is to know about firearms—aim, stance, timing, all that jazz—he would've been practicing on his citizen-owned gun. But, alas, he'd memorized of every inch of every gun out there, knew all of their strengths and weaknesses, and could even block off bullets. Of course, it was questionable whether or not he was the best in artillery or swordsmanship.

Yes, he was superhuman. But at the same time, he was only _half_.

Born under a human mother and dog demon father, Inuyasha obtained both sides of their blood. He was the mix of two species, a forbidden combination that one would ridicule, bully, and degrade. But, right now, none of that mattered. _Why don't they have any fucking _ramen_? _Inuyasha nearly whimpered at the reminder of his missing chow; instant noodles were his favorite food out there. Despite his occupation where he could get nearly anything he wanted, the kitchen was out of ramen and he couldn't order any more until their next gang meeting, thus he would have to take out his irritation on workout equipment by exercising his ass off.

Having enough of his ears freaking out over the highly-infuriating noises—not to mention, he didn't want any of his fellow members to see and mock them—he plucked the red bandana resting on his pants' elastic and placed it on his head, flattening the lively dog ears and contrasting greatly with his tanned skin and snow-white hair. He was used to the feeling of hats and bandanas on his head—he always wore them when someone had a chance of seeing them—but letting them free was one of his favorite things to do. Inuyasha sighed when the threat to his ears appeared, and managed to put on a cocky smirk for their benefit.

"Hey, Yash," the second-rate assassin greeted him. Inuyasha was not close to this fellow, but that didn't stop the guy from being clueless and not taking hints. Hells, the half-demon even yelled at him and threw him out a window once, but this male was entirely hopeless. "How's it going, my fellow killer and gangbanger?"

"Fine," he replied gruffly, side-stepping the full–monkey demon and making his way to the gym. To explain that incredibly curt conversation, Inuyasha was one of the top mobsters of their demon-based mafia. With more assassinations made than the third best mobster and knowledge of the streets and fighting exceeding those of their boss, he was looked at as one of the group's leaders, thus a mentor to the monkey demon. He was a master of firearms—as mentioned before—swords, and hand-to-hand combat. After being in the mafia for two decades, he'd made it so far that he would remain in the mafia until he was forced out; he was, and always had been, traveling to wherever his group was needed or desired to go.

Almost every night, he went out on assassinations and infiltrations, never really getting a break at all when it came to his role in the mafia. Luckily, though, tonight was the new moon, where his human blood took over his half-demon self; it was the only time he requested off. No one except his little foster brother knew of his weakness on this night, and he kept it that way by secluding himself in whatever room he had at the moment. It was easy to do, anyways, since he was the only half-demon at the base, thus everyone felt he should have his own bedroom. And of course, there were moments when his demon blood was dominant, but that only occurred when his life was in danger or he was extremely pissed.

Right now, said half-human _was _extremely pissed because of the lack of ramen in his hideout, but this somehow was unable to awaken his demon side. He plopped down on one of the weight benches, his earlier-mentioned best friend coming over to help him out, though it would be unneeded. Inuyasha popped in two headphones, set his old MP3 player to some classical music—since it was one of the few that _didn't _blow his ears out—and grasped onto the cool metal bar before beginning his daily exercise routine.

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_**Scene 4: "The Mysterious, Unsolved Case"**_

_**(October 1st, 3:05 PM,  
in Dead Man's Lab at FBI HQ)**_

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Kagome had moved to America to merely attend college, nothing more, but when she heard of all the opportunities she had been given as a top graduate, she took advantage of them. Thus she began preparing for the title of "FBI Field Agent Higurashi" (now just "Agent", but whatever). Her father, divorced from her mother, was proud of her newfound career, and decided to bring his crime-fighting career to America as well. Ever since he moved here—which was when Kagome got into the training program—he'd been continuing his job as a private investigator and detective. Kagome often called him up for secret assistance, his existence only known to herself; they were like partners in crime-fighting, except they didn't see each other much out of work. This was why Kagome desperately desired to wish him happy birthday in person, at a nice restaurant he'd probably more than happily pick. He truly enjoyed burning holes in his daughter's wallet; it must've run in the family, since his father, Jii-chan, was the same way.

Having reached their destination, Hojo closed the doors to the death laboratory, or "Dead Man's Lab", as Kagome and the others personally liked to call it. Inside, Forensic Specialist Ayame Yamainu and Medical Examiner Rin Hara were fidgeting with a corpse, hence the room's nickname. Strangely, the two girls were not self-conscious and kindhearted like Kagome, or violent and loyal like Sango. Instead, the two people that dealt with _dead_ people all day were full of _life. _Well, Ayame was when she was in a good mood, and she also took her evidence studying very seriously. Rin lightened up tense atmospheres and brightened everyone's day with her smile. She often played with the bodies, not minding their silent hearts, and touched them like a child would a plush toy. Once again, she was very unserious, working here for less than a month, but if Rin was fired, the FBI just wouldn't be the same anymore.

Not that it really had a description in the first place.

The youngest of their team, Rin, squealed with delight. "Hi, guys! Kagome, Kagome, looky!" She pointed and poked at the body. "We have another Bullet-Neck Bill!"

Kagome would never really know why or how Rin nicknamed the bodies and cases, and she wasn't all that sure if she wanted to.

"Yes, we do," Ayame said slowly, grabbing Rin's wrist before placing the twenty-year-old's arm at her side. Rin huffed before beginning to stab the man's side again. Ayame ignored it with a sigh, smiling at Rin's childish antics. "Now, we were going over the case files, trying to find connections and create some theories." She grabbed the large manila folder off a nearby table, scanning through the sheets. "So far, there hasn't been anything even close to a culprit found, much less evidence… And seeing a connection between the victims is just fruitless. The first time, it was a secretary for the Chief of Police. After that, a gas station clerk. Previously, it was a drug dealer. And now, it's a bartender. What's the pattern?"

Kagome exhaled as well. "Maybe they're not really focusing on a pattern," she murmured, looking down at the man whose eyes had been forced shut. There was only one bag of evidence nearby; that was the bullet used and the pebbles that'd dug into his skin from the impact of his deathly fall, though the latter was worthless. "Have you ever thought about who the culprit could be?"

Ayame nodded, once again overlooking Rin's abuse of their corpse. "The bullet's the kind someone finds in department stores. It's not really big stuff, which means it can't be the mafia or Agency—" Kagome doubted the CIA partook in this, but Ayame didn't trust them for some reason. Whatever; that was her issue.

"Maybe they're mobsters," Kagome went on, observing the new-looking bullet. "They could be running into your average store and purchasing equipment there instead of trading with Russia and other foreign countries. The mafia knows full well how we work, and would be able to comprehend how we traced things." At Hojo's dumb look, she explained further, "They know that if they buy civilian weapons, we'd think the killer was a civilian."

Ayame had a little light bulb go off in her head at Kagome's words. "That would explain more as to why these men were killed. Perhaps the victims were on a mafia or the killers' bad side, and _not_ picked at random?"

"Might be," Kagome whispered, taking in the unnamed man. "Do you have any other evidence _besides _the bullet?"

"Nope," Rin chirped, bouncing around the operating table. "Whoever's in control of the gun sure is good at hiding things. Everything at the scene—fingerprints, fibers, hairs—belonged to the victim or innocent people who lived or worked nearby and had been at the scene days before the crime happened."

"The killer—or _killers_—have got to be quick and careful to be _that_ good," Kagome said, eyes going wide at their newfound information concerning the case evidence. They never needed her assistance down here before on this project, so she didn't know that they didn't even have traces of the killer. Man, this was beyond bad. "He or she has _got _to be a demon. Not even an evil human could be this good at killing without leaving any evidence—except the bullet—behind." She turned to _Special Agent_ Hojo, the researcher and messenger of their group. "Ho—err, _Special Agent_ Hojo." He nodded in praise, and she fought the childish urge to roll her eyes. "You look up all the demons currently residing within a fifty mile radius of this guy's death site." Then she instructed to Ayame and Rin, "I think I may know who did this, and why."

Rin's chocolate orbs widened while Ayame's emerald eyes fell out of their sockets. "You _do_?" they gasped, for some reason sounding surprised. Kagome was always the observer, the one to catch onto to things first. Out of their group, that was.

"What, you haven't?" Kagome questioned, making herself feign shock. Both of her coworkers flushed in embarrassment, and she smiled, silently assuring them that she was only teasing. "The culprit: probably a demon-based mafia. Reason: these people knew something they shouldn't have." Seeing their skeptical looks—since they knew nothing of demons, despite Ayame being a demon herself—Kagome quickly added, "But that's just my theory."

"Should we ask a demon other than me for their opinion on this matter? I don't know much about the field or mafias, for that matter," Ayame wondered fretfully, for there was only one intelligent demon they knew, regardless of his wishes to not know they existed. He was a higher up, very cold, and unsympathetic, not to mention stern and emotionless—oh, and a total asshole. To Kagome's disbelief, he did even more deskwork than her, and _voluntarily, _too. After all, he was once a field agent as well, though more renowned than her and retired on his own, despite his young age of twenty-nine. He and Kagome were, after all, probably some of the best agents in their entire unit of a few hundred FBI members.

Kagome sighed, wondering if she was ready to give up her life yet. Finally, after a few moments, she decided the case was more important and whispered the name like toxic into the speaker that would travel up to his office. "Agent Takahashi, your assistance is needed in the autopsy room." Also known as Dead Man's Lab, but if he heard her call it that, he'd no doubt ignore her plea.

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_**Scene 5: "Badass-ness Comes with a Price"**_

_**(October 1st, 3:45 PM,  
in the Gym at an Unidentified Warehouse)**_

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"Nine hundred and ninety-nine… One thousand! Holy crud!" the kitsune exclaimed as his friend pulled up their largest weight again before pulling out his headphones. "You know, for being the only half-breed here, you're one of the strongest members." _Especially since you should be weak right now, _he added mentally. Even when the guy was going to turn human in about eight hours, he was still cramped full of strength and energy—it was enough to lift a one-hundred pound weight a thousand times without breaking a sweat.

"Shut it, Shittou," the half-demon growled, making _Shippou _flinch. "I hear enough of that 'half-breed' crap from people I don't even fucking _know_. Who said I needed it from you—_shrimp_?"

"What?" Shippou couldn't help yelling as he looked down at his body. Sure, he was shorter than most men—and women—but he was higher than five feet, which counted for something when compared to, uh, _others _out there in the universe.

His friend merely shrugged, looking around the emptying gym. "Hey, where're the twats goin'?"

Shippou narrowed his eyes at the weightlifting addict. "You know, we may be in the mafia, but that doesn't give you the right to cuss in every sentence."

The half-demon gave Shippou a stony glare that made the kitsune shudder. "Answer the fuckin' question. I was too busy jammin' to my music and workin' my amazing muscles to listen to what any of 'em said."

Shippou sighed. "Group meeting, nothing big." Inuyasha silently thanked whatever god was up there for giving him a chance to order ramen today. "I can't believe we're back in this old city again. Can you, Inuyasha?"

Inuyasha gulped down some water before sputtering, "What're you talking about, short-shit? This is _crime central_—of course we're back here. This is where all the business is, not to mention FBI headquarters. Make sense?"

"Now that you've said it, it _does_ make more sense," Shippou murmured. Inuyasha merely rolled his eyes. "Why didn't I figure that out sooner?"

"'Cause you're an idiot," Inuyasha stated simply, thumping the twenty-year-old mobster on the head. "And six years younger than me, which makes _me_ smarter than _you_."

"Son of a gun!" Shippou rubbed his head in pain. "Must you always be so violent?"

"Yes," Inuyasha, once again, deadpanned. He followed the remaining gangbangers out of the workout room door and into the largest room of the warehouse they were currently occupying. Inuyasha leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, and since Shippou looked up to him—through all the abuse, mind you—he repeated the half-demon's actions.

He murmured in his mentor's ear, "You know what tonight is, right?" Inuyasha nodded roughly; it was never easy to forget what night it was if it caused your greatest weakness to occur. Shippou was the only one who knew of Inuyasha's new-moon transformation, so on that night, the half-demon turned human and stayed in a secluded room, not allowing anyone to see or send him out on missions. It was technically his night off for no reason in his fellow mobsters' eyes.

Shippou, on the other hand, always had "nights off" to his lack of physical labor; at that, he hadn't had two decades of experience. However, he had been in the gang for a while, thus knew the rules and how things worked. Regarding Inuyasha, they went way back; let's just say that Inuyasha and Shippou were pretty much the only family they had and still talked to. Plus, Shippou's only job was to guard over the files of their targets and members, which was a pretty easy task since he was the only one besides the leaders who knew where the files were located at all times. Inuyasha always told him how he should be grateful not to have any gruesome jobs; as he said many times before, "Badass-ness comes with a price, Shittou."

"What do ya think is goin' on?" Inuyasha whispered. Shippou shrugged in response, not having anything else to say. Usually they didn't get together to give out missions unless it was something big, like a trainee joining the crew or a little one being sent out on his first assignment.

Gatenmaru, a mafia member the same rank as Inuyasha, huffed. "Idiot. Can't you just fucking wait until they tell us?" The look Inuyasha gave him clearly stated that, no, he was impatient. "Amateurs."

Just as Inuyasha balled up his fists, preparing to strike, their gang leader's secondhand man Menomaru jumped into giving out missions, all of which would take place the following day. It was the usual: robberies, assassinations, stake-outs—the works. He skipped over Inuyasha's name due to it being his night off, and went into Shippou's, which was unlike the others and meant for tonight. Inuyasha could hear it right now: _"Shippou, you're set to guard files again." _Yep. That sounded about more than right.

"Shippou, tonight you'll go on your first assassination."

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_**Scene 6: "A Seriously Unserious Encounter"**_

_**(**_**Still**_** October 1st, 3:25 PM,  
in Dead Man's Lab at FBI HQ)**_

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Kagome and her coworkers all had to say that even though Agent Takahashi was just slightly higher than Kagome on the ranks, he was much scarier when he was mad. Then again, he was just plain, freaking frightening when calm. Which is why Hojo went to go find Kagome, a person lower than the almighty Takahashi, to help them out—everyone except Rin, who hadn't met the block of ice, feared for their lives when in his presence. He certainly had the skill to kill them and then the smarts to cover it up, so they knew he was just placing mercy on them whenever he was upset. Hm… Maybe he _did_ want them around.

Suddenly, the door flew open, showing a certain silver-haired individual and his assistant Toad Man, or, as they had to address him, Jaken. His icy glares made everyone—except Rin—shiver fiercely.

Or, you know, maybe he did want them dead and was just waiting for the right moment to catch them off guard. "Sesshoumaru-sama is here, and your attention is key!" his assistant croaked.

Rin, being completely unprepared for the ex–field agent's arrival—much less his meeting her—was the first to speak. "Hi there, Agent What's-your-name! Is it Sesshoumaru-sama? I thought this was America, not Japan, you silly toad!" she tweeted, flashing a bright smile as she continued mistreating the poor carcass. "Anyways, Sesshoumaru-sama, has anyone ever told you how cool your name is? If not, I'm the first, and being the first is _great!_ Oh, I don't think we've met before. Have we? I wouldn't know. I'm Rin! Well, apparently Medical Examiner Rin Hara in this business, but whatever! You know what I'm saying? We need your help. Well, _they _need your help, but do you think you could help us—or them? I don't really know who needs your amazing expertise 'cause I wasn't really listening. I mean, it's just so fun poking bodies! And since I get really caught up in something I'm interested in, I wasn't listening at all! I'm shocked they haven't fired me yet, but then again, this place is so _boring _without a positive battery, you know? It's completely _lifeless. _What are you: positive or negative? I personally like negative batteries, not overly neutral or very positive, because they fit with me like peanut butter and jelly, you know? Wow, I love your hair! It's so silver and shiny and soft-looking! Which conditioner do you use? I use something that smells like cherry blossoms, because it reminds me of home! You're of Japanese descent, too, aren't you, Sesshoumaru-sama? Wow, I still can't get over how cool your name is! _Sesshoumaru-sama! _I think the first men who visited the moon should've screamed that to Pluto! Is Pluto even able to hear that? Wait, is it even _there? _Did it die, or just get downgraded from a planet to a dwarf? Speaking of dwarves, have you ever seen _Snow White_? That's my favorite movie! If you have time, we could pop it in right here, in Dead Man's Lab! Wouldn't that be cool, watching a kid's movie at work? Oh, that would get us fired, wouldn't it? I think that would be a date, too, so maybe not, because you look too handsome to be hanging around dead bodies and watching _Snow White_. You don't like Disney movies, do you? I sure hope you do, because I think we'll get along great! Oh, wait, we were talking about the case, weren't we? Let me rememb—oh, yeah! Can you please help us, Sesshoumaru-sama? We'd really appreciate it! Wait, am I even part of 'us'? Oh, well. What do you say, Sesshoumaru-sama?"

_Wow _was the only traumatized thought that each of the agents and FBI workers had thought in common. Kagome continued to think, _That was probably the longest, cheeriest speech someone's ever given _the_ Sesshoumaru Takahashi in his entire lifetime._ But then, the world stopped turning and randomly combusted—figuratively, of course.

Meaning Sesshoumaru's lips twitched, almost like he _wanted_ to smile.

While Kagome's heart stopped working, Ayame's eyes fell out of their sockets, Jaken's brain exploded, and Hojo peed himself, Rin grinned cheekily as the higher up responded, his voice less cold than usual. "This Sesshoumaru will be of use."

"Awesome!" she squealed, clapping her hands. She turned to the body she was practically molesting, and told him everything everyone else had recited, though she'd claimed not too long ago that she didn't hear. Meanwhile, Sesshoumaru nodded, showing he was listening, and unlike usual, looked actually interested. And as he did that, everybody tried to recover from the shock they had just experienced. "So, what do you think, Sesshoumaru-sama? We—or they, I still don't know who—think it's the work of a demon mafia. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Sesshoumaru murmured, gaze focused on her petite figure, though not checking her out, for that would be very un-Sesshoumaru-like. Rin probably wasn't aware of his gaze since she was still poking the bartender's corpse. "These people all may have roles in mafia issues, such as drugs, prostitution, and kidnappings—law enforcement men and lowly street merchants alike can partake in certain events they do not mean to. It is likely that these people indeed knew something that they shouldn't have, and were assassinated despite their apparent innocence. Have someone look up lists of demon mafias. I will narrow it down." Notice how he had never said words that meant "maybe" or "unsure". Because Sesshoumaru thought very highly of himself, thus did not show doubt in his abilities.

"Wow, you're so smart!" Rin gushed, facing him. "Thank you for your advice, Sesshoumaru-sama!" She giggled, saluting him like a soldier. "You're fun to have around! Did you know that? We need to hang out sometime, okay? And don't say no, because even though you're too handsome for this place, I know we're gonna be friends, but that won't happen if we don't hang out! So yes?" Everyone nearly died when she spoke to him so casually again.

Sesshoumaru's lips twitched once more, and all the surrounding agents began to plan their funerals, because their hearts couldn't take _this much_. "I will see you in my office tomorrow at noon. See to it that you are not late, for it is vital."

"Yes, sir!" she chirped back, sunlight practically emitting from her aura. "Thank you again, Sesshoumaru-sama!"

His lips twitched again, before he stated seriously, "My name is Sesshoumaru, Rin. You will address me as so." Once again, all the people standing by died by his off behavior. "Jaken, come. We have much to do concerning this case and meetings."

"Yes, Sesshoumaru!" Jaken said hesitantly, only to receive a dark look from his superior. The stony ice in the room began to crack, easily being replaced by a scary fire. "Err, Sesshoumaru-sama?"

"You have not been given permission to call me by my first name. Do not make another faux pa such as that again," Sesshoumaru commanded lowly, just as Rin began blubbering again.

"Maybe Sesshy?" she whispered to herself. Then, to the dog demon, she sung, "Can I call you Sesshy, Sesshoumaru? I think it has a catchy ring to it, but I didn't know if—"

"Anything is fine, Rin," he sighed, the corners of his lips twitching again. All of their fellow coworkers were going into a panicked frenzy. Yes, his stance remained professional, his voice stoic, and yet, his lips continued to twitch as if he _still _wanted to smile because of her—because of _Rin_! "Remember: tomorrow at noon, you will be in my office. No later than the expected time, either. Is that understood, Rin?"

"Aye-aye, captain!" she laughed, saluting him again as he entered the elevator. Once it closed, she turned to her friends. Ayame was currently trying to find her eyeballs that kept falling out, Kagome tried to regain normal breathing while cleaning Jaken's brains off the floor, and Hojo stood stiff as a board, humiliated by the pee puddle on the ground below him. Rin said, "Sheesh, what's your guys' problem? You didn't even talk to Sesshy, much less look at him in the eye! How're you ever gonna get his respect if you don't stand up and come out of your shells?"

"Dear God," Ayame wheezed, inserting her eyes as Kagome began chugging one of their water bottles, trying to moisten her throat and lungs again. Hojo just stood in the same spot helplessly. "_Rin!_ That was _the _Agent Sesshoumaru Takahashi, once _the _Field Agent Sesshoumaru Takahashi! He's top dog in our group, and he's cold, emotionless, and… and… _Sesshoumaru_! You guys are on a _first-name basis_! He's _never _on a first-name basis with _anyone_!"

"I like his name," Rin pondered absentmindedly, shifting her feet slightly as she stared at the wall in a dreamlike manner. "Don't you? I think I'm gonna ask him out."

It was then that Kagome choked on her water.

* * *

_**Scene 7: "Why the Change?"**_

_**(October 1st, 5:00 PM,  
in Shippou's Room at an Unidentified Warehouse)**_

_**

* * *

**_

"I can't _believe _them!" Inuyasha shouted, enraged at the mafia they were working for. Innocent Shippou, killing for the first time? Never in _his_ lifetime—

"Yasha, relax," the kitsune told the pacing half-demon, who jumped onto Shippou's roommate's bed. Inuyasha's jerky movements didn't stop, however; whenever he was irritated or intolerant, he had to move something in his body to work it out. His leg kept bouncing up and down, his fingers tapping his knees impatiently, and he repeatedly growled under his breath. Shippou sighed. "We knew it was gonna happen sooner or later. It was going to—you knew it before even I did. Taking me in—"

"Yeah, yeah, shut the fuck up," Inuyasha grumbled. "I've been here for two decades, kid. You? Only seven years." His fists automatically clenched, making his nails break the skin and soak red liquid. "But I was so fuckin' sure they wouldn't assign you that job. You've had _nothing _but simple guarding tasks, nothing remotely dangerous, yet they give you a goddamn assassination out of _nowhere_? Even if the assassins were all taken up tonight, you shouldn't have to kill for the first time, especially if this mission is as important as they said."

"But Inu—"

"I repeat: Shut the fuck up, Shittou," he growled, and his foster brother willingly complied. Inuyasha was not in a good mood right now, and was trying to dig deep into the mafia's mind; whenever this was a combination, one knew better than to intervene. "They sent me out on my first assassination when I was seven—that's one year after joining. You've been here for a solid damned seven years, and they suddenly have the urge to send you out on a bloody mission? Yeah, Shittou, there's nothing weird about that _at fucking all_."

Shippou said nothing, but merely listened as Inuyasha rambled on and on. Finally, the half-demon buried his face in his hands, letting out a monstrous exhale. "Why the change?" he wondered out loud, resting his restless hands on his bare chest. He murmured again, "Why now? Why change your usual mission _now _of all times? Why even give it to you in the first place? Why even _you_?" Shippou sighed as well, leaning back against the wall and letting his feet dangle off his bed. Honestly, he was just as confused as Inuyasha, but unlike him and similar to other members, didn't question it.

Out of nowhere, Inuyasha snapped, "It ain't gonna fucking happen."

"What?" Shippou inquired, completely shocked at Inuyasha's words. He didn't mean what he thought he meant, did he? _But tonight's the new moon! _Shippou stiffened at the thought.

"You're not goin' out there," Inuyasha declared once more, overlooking the thin manila folder with the target's address and appearance. No names, for they may have connections to the soon-to-be-dead man without realizing it. The target for tonight had short, straight black hair with bright blue eyes—an unusual yet normal Japanese male appearance, despite his strong physique and cheery, pearly smile. Inuyasha's eyes flashed somewhat with guilt and suspicion, wondering why a positive, appearing blameless man was going to be killed. _Probably knows something he shouldn't, _Inuyasha decided, though he had a nagging feeling, wondering why his own leaders wouldn't even tell them why they completed the missions they did.

"Inuyasha?"

Said half-demon whipped around to lock eyes with his best friend. "Don't worry, Ship," he said, too lost in thought to even bother with _Shittou_. "You're not gonna kill anybody tonight. Me, on the other hand, despite our given situation…"

"'Yasha?" Shippou asked once more, not liking where this was going.

"I'm gonna kill him." He tapped the photo. "I'm gonna kill this man."

* * *

_**Scene 8: "An Irreplaceable Bond"**_

_**(October 1st, 5:30 PM,  
in the FBI HQ's Parking Lot)**_

_**

* * *

**_

Kagome managed to escape the autopsy room without her coworkers knowing. She didn't know what she was planning, but she knew that as long as she wasn't technically a field agent, she didn't give a crap about that case. Now, she lingered in the entrance to FBI HQ, wavering between working and going home. Well. What else was there to do? She could go do paperwork, talk to some friends, do paperwork, go for some coffee, do some more paperwork, or she could leave—

After she did more paperwork.

It didn't take long for Kagome to grab her coat and run out the front doors to her car. Once she was inside, she didn't hesitate to speed dial her father. _"Hello?"_

"Daddy! Happy birthday!" Kagome cheered, smiling wide.

_"__Kagome! Thank you, I thought you'd call!" _Kagome smiled to herself as he went on. _"Let me guess: you're taking me out to a fancy gourmet restaurant that'll make moths inhabit your wallet. Oh, please, tell me it's true."_

Kagome giggled to herself. "Right on," she told him, not helping the beam that lit up her face as he laughed jollily. She imagined him wearing his goofy grin, and her smile grew. It was so great to talk to him again, almost as if they hadn't had seen each other in weeks. "You choose anyplace you wanna eat at, Dad."

_"__Hm… _anything_?" _At Kagome's unmentionably dry retort, he chuckled again. _"Well, that little café downtown sounds nice. You know, the one with Christmas cakes." _Yeah. The one that based their food off holidays and, of course, was never busy. Kagome wondered why her father would choose such a secluded spot; he was usually the partying-type.

After agreeing, they made the plans and Kagome buckled up and started her car. She pulled out and began the long journey back to her empty apartment. Not before she received a good yelling-at from Sango for calling on FBI grounds, though. _Oh, well, _she thought cheerily as she drove out of FBI territory. _Daddy and I have an irreplaceable bond. He comes first before work. _And with that, she was on her way home and heading towards her father's smiles and laughter.

* * *

_**Scene 9: "Sneak Out, But No Stake-Out"**_

_**(October 1st, 11:00 PM,  
in Inuyasha's Room at an Unidentified Warehouse)**_

_**

* * *

**_

Inuyasha never hunted his prey—never once nor twice. It just wasn't something he did. Dogs didn't stalk whatever victim they could have, anyways; they charged right ahead and hoped for the best. That was his, the half–dog demon's, fighting style.

He secured his black bandana on his head once more, his room already pitch-black from nightfall. He wore an ebony leather jacket with matching gloves and pants; he wore no socks with his charcoal-colored shoes, either. An assassin had to be careful of what they wore the night of the murder; not only did one have to blend themselves with their surroundings—hence his dark clothing in the current Gothic setting—but the smallest of things could get the cops' trailing on you. A little thread from clothing? They'll see what shirts have those fibers, who owns those shirts, and which shirt owners live in the area. A hair, fingernail, fingerprint, or blood? They all carry DNA or are just as unique as one's DNA; it was impossible to have an incorrect scan when using one of those items.

Of course, it being his human night and whatnot, Inuyasha's "DNA items" wouldn't give much away; it was his half-demon traits that were under file, not his human ones. One would think he'd commit more crimes on the new moon because of this, but due to his weak mortality, he was not as quick, invincible, or skilled as a demon, much less half. Honestly, his chances of making mistakes increased as well, and this was why Shippou tried to talk him out of killing the target tonight.

Inuyasha didn't listen, and Shippou knew that.

With a cascade of hip-length, tousled black hair swinging behind him, the half-demon turned human jumped out of his second story window without thinking. He landed on the ground, expectedly on his feet, but his legs hurt like hell now. _Shit! I forgot all about my goddamn humanity, _he thought, grimacing and stumbling slightly from the initial shock of his fall. His human ears at the side of his handsome face couldn't detect anyone nearby, but then again, his demon senses were useless and missing when he was human. He just had to hope that no demons were up right now, that they were sleeping in for their missions the following day. After all, _Shippou _was supposed to be the only one out of his dorm right now, and yet, here was Inuyasha, taking his place more than willingly, despite the war between right and wrong raging inside of him.

With a gun and silencer strapped in his holster, the assassin took off into the night, ignoring his human conscience's pleas to not kill the seemingly guiltless man. That was one of the great things of having demon blood: most times, the blood reigned over your mind. They weren't afraid to kill, their demon-based mafia, because they wouldn't feel the strongly negative emotions of doing their crimes afterwards—even what Inuyasha was doing, about to kill an innocent, was just fine to them.

_Yeah, _Inuyasha thought sourly. _But Mother was innocent, too._

_

* * *

_

_**Scene 10: "Detective Higurashi"**_

_**(October 1st, 9:30 PM,  
in the Holiday Café in the Downtown Area)**_

_**

* * *

**_

In a nice white sweater with a red tank top underneath and nice green shorts to finish her look, the mismatched, comfortably-dressed Agent Higurashi slid into the seat across from the brown-coated, black-shirted, khaki-panted Detective Higurashi. She chirped, "Hey, Daddy!" and he gave her a goofy smile. "Happy fiftieth birthday!"

He laughed in a carefree manner. That was her father: laughing at the smallest of things while she smiled at anything. Their entire family said that the father and daughter's bond was obvious, the similarities between the two being as clear as day. "Fifty is right," Detective Higurashi chuckled, sipping some of the energy-filled coffee in front of him. "To believe, it was twenty-seven years ago that I first became a husband, twenty-six that I became the father to a lovely baby girl, twenty-one that I became the father to two beautiful children, and a decade ago I became a single man."

"But the split was without hate," Kagome added with a smile. The whole reason for the separation was that they just wanted different things; Mr. Higurashi wanted to focus on his work and Mrs. Higurashi desired to take care of each person in every way possible. Though their love had faded, their friendship never did, which was why they remained best friends and teamed up on Kagome and her twenty-one-year-old brother Souta about their lives. The two siblings thought their parents must've gotten a sick pleasure from bothering them about small things, but really, they were so glad that their parents were still each other's other halves, just not love interests.

Det. Higurashi grinned wide, chortling. "That it was," he murmured in a jokingly suspicious manner, wiggling his eyebrows as he took another sip from his coffee.

Kagome laughed at his antics, and grinned when she saw that he'd already ordered her favorite tea, but then had a teasing frown on her face when she saw his beverage. "What's this nonsense? Do you not like my awesome, homemade coffee, Father?"

"Oh, no, I _love _your coffee, dearest," he insisted. In a lower tone, he added, "The Holiday Café just can't live up to your legend." She rolled her eyes, and he laughed. Detective Higurashi was almost never serious and if he was, he still had a teasing glint to him somewhere. He was always joking, acting silly, trying to brighten others' days by making them laugh and smile. She would be lying if Kagome said she frowned even once in his presence; she always had a grin glued to her face with him around. "By the way, when _are _you going to tell me the secret to your amazing, original coffee?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Someday," Kagome giggled, sipping some of her tea.

"Well, when you find a man—which better be soon—you'll have to tell him the secret so that he can pass it onto me." At his daughter's bored expression, Det. Higurashi chuckled. "I was just talking to your mother this afternoon, and we both declared that you need to settle down." Kagome groaned, and he laughed full-heartedly. "Don't worry, we're going to give you a vast amount of time to find Mr. Right."

"Oh, really?" She smiled, knowing full well what he was thinking.

"Yes," he confirmed as she sipped her herbal tea. "A total of a week."

She set it down, a smile teasing her pink lips that she'd adopted from her mother. "How kind and generous of you both," she murmured blithely, and he laughed once more. "So, let me guess: your original plans for tonight involved a certain dance club, tons of drinks, and turning down any horny woman coming your way?"

He gasped dramatically. "KAGOME!" he hissed with a teasing glint in his ocean-blue orbs, and she laughed. "Watch what you say in public—or private, for that matter! You know they could be listening to everything we say, those damned Martians."

"Yes, because they _need _to hear about your personal life, Daddy," she teased with a smile.

He straightened his back and raised a sharp eyebrow. "Point taken," he said quite seriously.

She chuckled and grinned wider as they both drunk their nature-born beverages. "But, honestly, I_ was _kind of surprised that you had no plans. I mean, you're always the one to hit the latest clubs, despite your age—" She paused for his smart comment, but it didn't come; instead, he looked kind of serious. "Daddy? Did you plan for me to—?"

He nodded. "Your boyfriend's been looking for me," he said casually. At first, Kagome was confused. _Boyfriend? _Just a moment ago, they were talking about her finding a boyfriend, but now—?

"Oh," she breathed, suddenly blinking a lot. She caught the hidden message in his words, her professional agent side kicking into gear. _Are we being watched? Is someone really after Daddy? _"So, why is he looking for you?"

"He wants to know my secrets," he answered swiftly, all traces of laughter and smiling gone from his face. It was this that informed Kagome that he was being completely solemn about this—it was truly a threat. "I kind of…_stole _something from him."

The FBI agent tilted her head to the side until she felt something light and harmless poke at her knees. _A folder, or papers? _Without removing her gaze from her father, she secretly grabbed it and shoved it inside of her purse. _What was it that he stole? Information? Is that what's on these papers? _She gulped. _Does he know something he shouldn't?_ "When do you think he'll come?" she asked, her voice turning scratchy due to her suddenly dry throat.

"He's kind of unpredictable," Detective Higurashi told her with a stern expression that tied Kagome's heart into knots. "But, honestly, he'll just come when he wants to and take it without a second thought. Man, you should really break up with him." He smiled at that part, but it was fake; Kagome saw right through it. "Well, if I don't get going, I'll miss the surprise party in Nikoshi, Ukraan. It's the newest thing going around, I'll assure you that, honey." _Nikoshi, Ukraan? _she wondered. _Where is he _getting _this stuff?_

Once again, a pretend grin greeted her once more. "I'll give you a call before it happens." And with that, he stood up, kissed his shaken daughter's forehead, and sauntered out of the café as if he hadn't a worry in the world. Once her father was completely down the street, the cheery-turned-serious meeting with him came back to greet Kagome with full-force; she relived every word and movement of what could've possibly been their last meeting, and instantly was beat with emotions she'd hoped she never had to face.

Fear, anxiety, and worry overcame the ex–FBI field agent, and Kagome cried into her hands.

* * *

_**Scene 11: "Predator of the Night"**_

_**(October 1st, 11:48 PM,  
in the Abandoned Downtown Area Streets)**_

_**

* * *

**_

Inuyasha followed his prey as he walked down the abandoned streets. Normally, he would've attacked immediately, but given the circumstances of the new moon, he had to actually _try _to be cautious. In his demon form, he was graceful; instincts were his every being, and he was born a killer. As a human, however, he had to be wary of every movement, every small detail that could've screwed up his mission. Hells, when in his human form, he even had to watch his _breathing_. He hadn't realized every little thing he did as a half-demon that assisted him in assassinations until he was forced to go without those little things. Now, he wanted them back desperately.

He had to give this mortal credit, though; even though he whistled as if nothing was amiss, even though the man walked at a normal pace, if Inuyasha or any demon-turned-human looked every closely, he was prepared to run and call someone. He knew what was coming, this man, and yet, he didn't scream bloody murder. It was almost as if he was ready to die, like he had no regrets or was selfish and clueless. _This guy knows I'm following him, _Inuyasha realized. _He's waiting for me to make my move._

He removed the gun from his belt, feeling the familiar adrenaline rush by having a weapon in his hands, the capability to get away with something most couldn't. _Gladly, _he thought as he made his descent from the building above and to the man now in front of him.

The man looked surprised, not taken aback in a fearful way, but simply _surprised _to see him there. Then a big grin, one without any cheer, danced across his face, his eyes flat as he asked in a fake-happy manner, "I'm sorry, do you need me for something?" Inuyasha quickly pointed the gun at the joker's forehead and was about to pull the trigger when his weapon was knocked out of his hand. He stared in shock at his fallen weapon before taking off after the man who'd whipped out his cell phone and was now calling someone. Inuyasha ran rapidly and with all his might, but this man was just as strong; fuck, he was putting up a good fight. He could already tell this would be an almost never-ending chase until he got a good shot and hit his signature spot:

Smack-dab in the middle of the vertebrae of the neck. If they didn't die from the bleeding, they'd be paralyzed, unable to even feel or speak, for the rest of their life.

Inuyasha steadied his gun, but in his human form, it was difficult to get a good shot. _Damn, _he thought as he hurried his pace to catch up with the quick-legged man. The target spoke into the cell phone, surprising Inuyasha this time as he realized he was not calling the police. "Honey, it's happening." There was a gasp on the other end that even Inuyasha could hear. The man didn't even take a deep breath before he declared to his "honey",

"I'm going to die."

* * *

_**Scene 12: "Panicked Calls, Tearful Cries, and Broken Souls"**_

_**(October 1st, 11:50 PM,  
in the Abandoned Downtown Area Streets)**_

_**

* * *

**_

Kagome was staring dully at all of her surroundings. She didn't bother to glance at her bag, which held the last thing her father gave her, as she made her way down the empty streets of the city. The downtown area was never busy at nights, and she knew she should've been asleep in her apartment right now since it was two hours after their meeting, but…

Her dad. He left her with too many questions back at the café. What was the file about? Who was after him? What were the true meanings behind each of his words? Did she decipher any of them incorrectly? She couldn't fall asleep until her thoughts were answered.

_Is Daddy really going to die?_

Her cell phone rang and without looking at caller ID, she answered. "Hello?"

_"Honey, it's happening."_ Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized her father's voice on the other end. She gasped as she finally comprehended his words. _"I'm going to die."_

"What?" she whispered brokenly, trembling as she stopped walking with an abrupt halt.

_"I just wanted to call and tell you goodbye." _His voice was hoarse, as if he'd been running, but it was strong—_he _was strong. He'd run for miles if it was for a good reason.

"Dad… You're not going to die." _Please tell me you're not going to die._

_"Sorry, honey," _he murmured apologetically. _"I'm not going to die in vain, I'll tell you that much. It's for a good cause—mostly—and I knew it'd eventually lead to this." _She was about to inquire more, but a part of her mind told her that this was his farewell gift, thus she bit down her lips. _"You're very kindhearted, beautiful, and strong, sweetheart; I've always been proud of both you and you-know-who. You've accomplished much, exceeded my expectations, and I know that wherever your life leads to, I'll even support you up from the big place."_

"Dad…"

_"I love you, your brother, your mother, and my father all so much—you have each brought me happiness and good times."_ He panted some, still running. _"I want you to be happy, dear, no matter what happens. I want you to get your career back on the road, fulfill each of your dreams, enjoy your hobbies and forever receive joy from that silly camera and gun of yours."_ She held back a sob. _"I want you to find a man that'll protect you, love your every being, and sacrifice everything he's known just to be with you. I want you to find true love and wake up every morning only to find yourself smiling. I want you to marry and have children, if that's what you want, and have many life adventures."_

She sobbed without trying, tears streaming from her eyes in frustration and total grief. "BUT YOU HATE EVERYONE I DATE!" Kagome couldn't help crying.

She thought he would've grinned if he didn't sound so tired. _"Whoever you pick is bound to be worth it. You're gonna do great things, sweetheart, and you're going to have a good life—even if it kills me." _She didn't hold in any more of her emotions as she cried, wept, and sobbed. _"My body will be at South and Main, tucked into an alleyway near a dumpster."_

"No, it won't," Kagome sniffed, already heading off to the streets he named, though it wasn't far. "Daddy, you've been there all my life and I don't ever want to see you go—you're not, okay? You're gonna stay alive, for me, for Souta, for Mama, for Jii-chan—"

_"Sweetie," _he hummed, and she broke down again as she ran to his location._ "You were the best girl that ever was, and right now, the best woman who's ever lived. You will have whatever career you've always wanted, the spouse you've always desired, and the life you've always wished for. Remember my location, and be there. Oh, and honey?"_

"Yeah?" Kagome wheezed, fighting back the tears already coming on.

_"I love you." _Then, softly, he whispered, _"Kagome…"_

There was a loud pop in the background before a few thuds followed. "Dad?" Kagome whispered, already quickening her pace as she turned onto the street. "Daddy? _Dad? DADDYYYYYYYYYYY!_"

The sight before her answered it all.

Detective Higurashi's eyes were closed, his hand encased around a cell phone, and his body was tired and still except for a slow rise in his chest. His brown coat was soaked with a red liquid, the source of it coming from the back of his neck, and he lied beside a dumpster, just like promised. Kagome instantly went to his side, picking up his head with care before placing it on her lap. The chances of survival were small, but maybe, perhaps if she prayed enough, maybe he could—

"Kagome," he whispered and she gasped. She tenderly touched the gentle, lively face of her father, which was turning away from warmth and fire, into cold and ice. She held back more tears that disobeyed her as he managed a meaningful grin while his eyes opened slightly just to meet hers. "Kags… Thank you."

"Dad," she whispered brokenly, fingers trembling on his familiar face as his eyes closed once more. His chest stopped moving, and at that moment, she let out an ear-shattering scream into the night, screaming her father's title until her throat constricted and she had no more air left inside of her. She heard sirens, had a faint thought that someone heard her cries, but nothing compared to the utter loneliness, the total depression, and lack of life in her core. She'd wished the weatherman had said it would rain today, because her eyes were the clouds producing the sprinkles. She wished she had a better warning than what her father had given her so suddenly.

_Daddy…_

And with that thought, her listening was weak, her body was limb, and her vision was black. She felt nothing but her back against the cement as she went to sleep, like she'd promised herself earlier on. She wasn't going to die, not even close. But, sometimes, maybe there was a worse fate than death.

**

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**

**A/N: **These chapters are going to be _soooo _long… *goggle-eyed*


	2. Deceit of the Unexpected

**Disclaimer****:** I don't own Inuyasha.

**A/N: **MUCH ANGST AHEAD! And thank you to the community _Diamonds in the Rough _and its owner Sassybratt for showing _Frame-Up _some love, even through its first chapter. You rock. :'3

By the way, due to some confusion, I will clarify two things. First of all, when Rin says **"Bullet-Neck Bill"**, she can refer to the victims (i.e., "This guy is a _Bullet-Neck Bill_"), the killer (i.e., "_Bullet-Neck Bill _has struck again"), or the case itself (i.e., "On the _Bullet-Neck Bill_ file…"). Second of all, concerning **FBI rankings**, special agents are lower than field agents and agents like Kagome and Sesshoumaru; they are assigned to one specific area or expertise whereas agents have more access to their group's files and excel in different areas. (Hojo, for example, excels in research.) Sango, Rin, Ayame, and Hojo all have equal ranks, though Nazuna and Jaken—Kagome and Sesshoumaru's secretaries/assistants—rank below them since their jobs do not revolve around the cases, but appeasing the agents who work on them. Field agents are considered to be the highest ranking; when Kags and Sess were on the field, Sesshoumaru was the best and Kagome was the second best (though she was the best _woman_). However, Sesshoumaru retired at an early age for an unknown reason, demoting his rank and deciding to work on cases from the office. Kagome was also put into "retirement" around the same time as him, though she had no choice in the matter. The FBI has pretty much demoted her for "doing too good of a job"—or so says Sango. The reasons behind it all are still pretty unclear to anyone besides the higher-ups.

* * *

_**FRAME-UP**_

_**Act II: Deceit of the Unexpected**_

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* * *

**_

_**Scene 1: "The Proverbial Shadow"**_

_**(October 3rd, 12:30 AM,  
at an Unidentified Warehouse)**_

_**

* * *

**_

The agent sipped his sweet, homemade coffee, watching the investigation play out from afar. The chill of the crispy night air bit at his tanned skin as he remained secure, hidden, and concealed within the large mass of trees surrounding the hideaway. At such heights, a being of his birthright may have been afraid, but this agent had a calm, collected, stoic exterior. He would show no weakness; he would remain higher than those below him.

To be quite honest, he didn't _need_ to be here. He could've been at his snug, reserved condo or even FBI headquarters reading the newspaper, doing research, and filing paperwork. He could've had a tedious, same-old evening with no excitement whatsoever—much like his life had been since he retired from the field. But _she _was here; and for that, he absolutely had no choice to come and act as guard for the many agents inside the building, acting as the opposites of themselves, gaining the trust of un-trusting criminals in a single night.

Crushing the cup silently after he drank the last drop of its liquid, his eyes sharpened, his instincts kicking in. He threw the cup aside before his eyes widened ever-so-slightly in surprise. Perhaps it was the dull thuds from the east side of the supposedly-abandoned building, the loud pops echoing moments before, or the sound of glass breaking nearby that alerted him, but it was undoubtedly the soft, pained yells from familiar FBI agents that didn't settle well with this agent's stomach.

Something…wasn't right.

An ominous cloud hung over the warehouse, twisting the guts of its occupants and increasing heartbeats tenfold. He could hear it: their blood pounding in their ears, suffocating their chests, retching their internal organs, adrenaline pumping through their systems, stabbing them from the inside—all of it emotionally-related. Anxiety, apprehension, trepidation, anticipation, excitement, grief, shock, surprise, and most of all, _fear_—it all rang within his ears as he sensed their actions, smelt their emotions, felt their thoughts, concerns, and panic within his own cage of a body.

Something was _undeniably_ wrong.

A struggled cry ripped from his left, choked by gurgles and wheezing, fighting for air past some sort of liquid. "TRAITOR!"

The agent turned to the voice, bounding from the trees as if floating on air. This confirmed his suspicions; something went haywire. Maybe their plans failed, or perhaps they succeeded but victory just occurred too late. His senses heightened, searching for anything out of the ordinary, his claws growing an inch, fangs protruding his mouth, eyes flashing red in warning to those unfortunately guilty nearby; and what he received and felt in return was an undoubtedly horrific scent. He smelt…

_Blood_. There was much blood nearby. Mostly familiar blood. Amongst them, _her _blood. Hurt. Disbelief. _Betrayal_. It coated every cell of her as she cried out into the night, crawling on the grass, not giving up, even as the agent came to her side. "Traitor… _Traitor… _YOU _FUCKING TRAITOR_!"

Silently, the agent scooped up his fallen—and surprisingly livid while cursing—comrade, staring into the darkness, where _her _eyes were trained on the retreating figure. A familiar figure of an hourglass-shaped body with a slender waist, wide hips and bust, and slender, fit legs with slim-shaped arms. The agent stared in incredulity alongside his female companion, emotions slipping past him so easily due to his shock. The stench of blood hit him hard once more, but he was too thunderstruck to move, to take action for anything except staring at her retreating form, and having the urge to upchuck the coffee she'd made him just that evening.

For once, he was losing it. Even his arms trembled as he thought over the situation slowly, looking for any conclusion other than the one they came to face as to how the raven-haired beauty had surpassed them so well with her easy grins and friendly nature, winning each of their hearts gradually yet most definitely. His breath caught as her skin reflected in the small amount of moonlight, her hidden scent lost among his nose; no longer had she smelt of cherry blossoms, smiles, and love, but just wholesome plasma. All of her comrades' blood tainted her pure character. The smell of innocence, warmth, and compassion was long gone, replaced by something sinister, darker…

_Heartless_.

They trusted her—every single agent trusted her right off the bat, taking faith in the woman who'd made them coffee with her own two hands, laughed at the smallest of things, always wore a smile, brought happiness into their work lives, managed to make the naïve forget any remorse they'd felt after missions, and taken a bullet if their back had been turned for just a second… They all trusted their mutual friend, the one who easily put that trust back into them. And now, she betrayed them. Betrayed them like the fools they were to believe for a second she was the good girl—that she wasn't a cold-blooded bitch underneath that warm exterior.

For thinking she was on their side, they were all idiots.

"YOU _FUCKING_ _TRAITOR_!"

* * *

_**Scene 2: "Repeats of the Past"**_

_**(The Previous Day, October 2nd, 1:01 AM,  
in Inuyasha's Bedroom at an Unidentified Warehouse)**_

_**

* * *

**_

Was it possible for your own emotions to slowly kill you off? As of the moment, Inuyasha felt it was more than plausible as he questioned it repeatedly, cowering in the strange comfort of his mattress. His stomach clenched as that feminine voice still echoed through his mind, eating away at the remainders of his conscience, crying out for some sort of resolution. His skin turned clammy underneath his dark clothing and his movements turned sluggish as his muscles grew weary and fatigued, the guilt beginning to consume him alive. _That girl… _His gloved hands fisted, wrinkling against the leather, as he imagined connecting her voice with a body—an exterior he simply couldn't picture. _I can't believe…_ He bit down on his tongue, ignoring the sharp stinging as blood settled onto his teeth and gums, and was slightly relieved that he didn't have his fangs at the moment, or else even his demon toughness couldn't deal with the pain of his self-induced torture.

He would've been able to handle killing that man if the mysterious girl hadn't come along.

For once, he was damn happy he was human. Besides feeling the extreme guilt, there were upsides to the situation: he couldn't smell his blood or her tears. He couldn't smell the sorrow of the girl's soul radiating from her core, or sense the trembling of her body as she cried everlastingly into the night. He couldn't hear her sharp screams of agony and completely comprehend every word of pain she undoubtedly said. He wasn't able to interrupt the last moments she had with her father over that phone call, couldn't listen to every word his target said, couldn't hear their rapid heartbeats as they both pained at the thought of what was to come. But the emotions were intense, and he couldn't push them away this time to act impassively and blankly towards the crime he'd just committed—not the entire act of killing itself, but _whom _he'd exactly assassinated on this cold, dark, moonless night, never hesitating on pulling that trigger.

_I _killed_ a goddamn _parent_._

He was such a fucking hypocrite.

Inuyasha's teeth ground against his pink appendage, ignoring his own whimpers of fury and hurt as he imagined her voice calling out "daddy" into the night, over and over again until his ears rung and sound turned into a small, static drone. _Damn these human emotions, damn this guilt, damn _me _for taking away something that I'd lost long ago._

_Mother…_

He remembered all-too-well that night. The fun they both had at the arcade, her maternal, shy chants of encouragement as he smiled and laughed, ignoring the stares he got for being an outsider, a half-breed. Her proud beam as he spent his award tickets on getting her plastic jewelry, and his returning expression of pride. Her convincing him to dance on the sidewalk with her on their walk home, her singing softly to him as he wondered how great their mother-son day had become. Then—

_"Hand over your purse!"_

Finally, Inuyasha howled into the night; though his dog instincts were long gone until sunrise, any cry to show his emotional suffering, his physical hurt, and his spiritual grief was good enough for him. Maybe this was why he and the other assassins were never allowed to see any personal information about their targets, the soon-to-be dead men, women, and children: to break off whatever bonds could stir the grieving beasts inside them all, avoid the chance of sympathy crawling outside of the caves known as their hearts, to make sure they didn't regret any fault they committed. Perhaps it was this way to avoid useless human emotions such as guilt and shame for one's actions, to make sure they killed the wanted person without any setbacks or something holding their bodies hostage, preventing them from furthering the incident and taking away someone's existence. If the higher-ups allowed such details to be given out, would it increase the chances of them, the enders of lives, feeling remorse for completing their mission, fulfilling their duty, doing as they were told? Goddamn it, he'd lost his mother, his _life _that day, and what did he do after all these years?

_"DADDYYYYYYY!"_

He took away the very thing that'd broken him two decades ago from a stranger; whether she was as young as he when he lost his mother, or as old as he was now, he took away something that could never be replaced. This twilight would echo through his thoughts evermore, and now, this night would forever be imprinted into that girl's mind, all because the mafia couldn't let just _one man _go…

He was a cold-blooded killer. He was aware of this fact ever since his first assassination at the age of seven. He could kill without feeling remorse, could see them beg and cry and writhe with pain without feeling a speckle of sympathy and having any hint of compunction. He could deal with murders despite his past, repeating the same mistake that bastard made years ago unto his life. He could kill people's children, parents, siblings, best friends, lovers, spouses, coworkers, acquaintances, relatives—he could kill any-fucking-one at anytime.

But now he knew: not on the new moon.

His vacant eyes stared at his clawless hands, his midnight hair spread around him on the pillow and his fangless teeth grinding against each other when they weren't trying to rid him of his tongue or gums. With these human hands and the assistance of a gun, he stole someone's life expectancy right out from under them, he caused a girl to shed tears that never should've been formed—he created so much trouble with his human self, the one who was supposed to be kinder, less gruff, more caring than the half-demon within him. But now, even this side of him had been tainted with cruelty.

_Never _on the new moon.

His own mind was killing him off in a slow suicide of guilt, the sense of right and wrong suddenly clearer than it was as a half-demon. His mind reminded him that another child would go without their parent, just like he did ever since that encounter twenty years ago. He would've been able to handle it if that man hadn't called his daughter. He _had _been able to handle it until that man called his daughter, and as he left, he heard the few shrieks of the man's title sway into the night, nearly making his eardrums bleed profusely.

Now, Inuyasha lied in bed, knotting his sheets in his fists, gripping and twisting the covers, flipping and shifting his body every minute, mind anywhere but sleep. He wanted to go to sleep, to forget what happened, but besides him needing to stay awake due to the lack of moonlight and having to avoid slumber to protect himself, he desperately desired to shut his eyes and let his mind wander into unconsciousness. He wanted to allow himself to dream happily, though he had the faintest suspicion that his guilt would only bother him further and he'd relive the occurrence all over again, and if not that, have dark, unwanted nightmares that would eternally scar his memory. With a heavy sigh and another toss of his body, Inuyasha laid on his back, now in a comfortable red shirt, staring into the darkness, his mind helplessly wandering, causing more pain and confusion within the crowd of negativity, searching for an answer of some kind, looking for a way to feel less guilty for the incident, only to hurt itself further in the process.

He repeated his boss's mistake of the past, and this time, for the first time, he was looking back.

* * *

_**Scene 3: "Mourner for Mystery"**_

_**(October 2nd, 7:06 PM,  
at FBI HQ Infirmary)**_

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* * *

**_

Little _beeps _echoed through the room, making her ears ring every so often. The smell of coffee was strong, and all around her, shoes clicked against what must've been a marble floor of some kind. Light stared at her through her eyelids, and she fluttered them open to only see shades of white. She automatically recognized the interior of the room: _hospital_. But why was she at a hospital?

Groaning slightly, she brought up her hand to rub her face, faintly noticing the IVs in her veins and sensors on her arms, chest, and everywhere else, not paying much mind to her hands themselves. She felt around her eyes, and reveled in how stiff and swollen they felt, how crispy the skin was around them. Had she been crying? Moaning again, she kicked off the white, knitted quilt on top of her, only to gasp when a sore twinge hit her ankle. She glanced down at the bandaging around her foot, and wondered faintly if she'd broken it. Was she running and crying recently, or what?

The door to her left clicked, and she turned to see a familiar, brown-haired boy walking through, white coat, stethoscope, and clipboard intact, and a black-haired man with the same get-up, just a more professional air. She blinked for a few moments, as if processing that this person really was who she thought he was, and asked softly in a feeble voice she did not recognize as her own, "Hojo?"

He managed a grin. "Yes, Agent Higurashi," he answered, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Yep. That was Hojo all right. "I volunteer down here sometimes." Kagome finally acknowledged that they were . As if suddenly realizing he was actually talking to her for once, his face heated up and he informed her shyly, "Heh, um… Dr. Suikoutsu came down here to explain things to, uh, you, and I took care of, err, I mean, treated you while you were—"

"I understand, Special Agent Hojo," she interrupted, offering a bright smile—forced, of course. As he nodded and hurriedly exited, she waved goodbye for support, until her eyes caught sight of her hands' current state—or, more exactly, what they were covered with.

_Blood. _Dried _blood._

Her throat constricted, her eyes watered, and her organs clamped together as everything from last night hit her full-on: their laughs, their smiles, his cryptic hints, his departure, his call, her running so fast she didn't pay any mind to the pain in her ankle, and finally, his defeated body that soon laid in her lap as she screamed—

She shut her eyes tight and willed the memories away. _My dad's not dead, my dad's not dead!_

"I came to discuss last night's murder with you," Dr. Suikoutsu reminded her softly, sitting on a nearby chair and crossing his legs. Since it was not his case to talk about however, she automatically knew what questions he would ask. "Did you know the man personally?"

This question was in case she needed therapy or time off—neither of which she could afford. "No," she lied through her teeth, the bed sheets tightening in her fists. _My dad's not dead. There was another man there, and he was the one I talked to. I only mistook him for my father. Daddy can't die. He told me he wouldn't leave me a long time ago… _

Dr. Suikoutsu nodded, his eyes not meeting hers as he scribbled down something on his board. "Why do you think you fainted, then?"

She couldn't exactly tell him it was the overwhelming grief and stress of the situation since it wasn't her father, so she responded, "Shock." For her, it was a good enough answer; no one would expect themselves to be in such a situation, not even a FBI agent.

The doctor nodded, asking a few more questions regarding her emotional and mental stature before regarding her presence with a smile and slight wave of the hand as he exited the hospital room. Kagome sniffed a little, feeling her eyes moisten as she pushed the memories to the back of her mind. _My father _is _alive, _she thought stubbornly, her throat tightening for some odd reason as she ignored the puffiness in her eyes from last night's crying. _My father's…alive. He _has _to be. _She glimpsed to the hospital phone for the slightest moment, wondering if he would pick up his cell phone or not. But what if he didn't, and a medical coroner did instead…? She paled as she imagined his body on one of the examination tables. _But he can't be dead, _she reassured herself._ My dad's— _

Her eyes trailed to the purse next to her bed: _her_ purse. The infirmary workers didn't go through it, did they? She lifted the large bag off the ground around onto the bed, despite her tired muscles' protests. Shuffling through its contents, Kagome breathed a sigh of relief until her fingers met a manila material, indicating she did indeed have the folder.

But the moment her hand made contact, a void opened inside of her, sucking the rest of her doubt and indemnity. Her organs felt weak, drooping, as if they were empty of their fluids, and she would've thrown up if her stomach had anything inside of it. Was her father truly…?

Suddenly, two hourglass figures walked in, one with a bobbing chestnut ponytail and the other with mahogany pigtails, followed by a slender form with a mere bunch of ebony hair pulled into a side-tail. Upon seeing the local phone-line linguist, forensic specialist, and medical examiner, the ex–field agent didn't hold back her sadness any longer.

Kagome shamelessly cried on the spot, right in front of Sango, Ayame, and Rin, all of whom had no idea towards why she was mourning for a man none of them knew.

* * *

_**Scene 4: "A Walking Corpse"**_

_**(October 2nd, 11:07 AM,  
in the Cafeteria at an Unidentified Warehouse)**_

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* * *

**_

Lunch time was to take place in twenty minutes for the members of a certain demon mafia, but as of now, a certain kitsune and half–dog demon were eating early and sitting alone at their usual table in the small, closed-off room known as their current building's dining hall. The area was the size of maybe two classrooms and scattered with beaten, circular tables; it held no windows, and there was only one door which made the inside soundproof, similar to the rest of their hideout. And although they moved around a lot, the gangbangers stayed in their cliques, and once claiming something as theirs, it became theirs from then on. Even when they left a building, if they ever came back, the territory they'd long ago claimed would be theirs once more. The warehouse they resided in at the moment had been a popular one for their entire mafia, and the two best friends took pride in the things that were theirs: their usual lunch table, their always-will-be-theirs bedrooms, the built-in candy dispenser Shippou had grown so fond of, the weight set Inuyasha used during every one of his workouts—all of the things they used often soon became theirs alone.

With no one around, the fox demon had assumed his mentor would be pigging out, ranting on and on about his mission last night and letting the twenty-year-old in the know. But the half-demon remained silent. Even more shockingly…

Inuyasha wasn't eating his ramen.

Shippou was concerned. No, _more _than concerned—more like _disturbed_.

Just this morning, the mafia fulfilled their list of needs, and Shippou got his pocky orders whereas Inuyasha received his several ramen cups (and his favorite Japanese-imported shampoo, _Feudal Forest_). But the half-demon wasn't even really _looking _at them; he was facing his food all right, but his mind was obviously elsewhere. The kitsune wondered what occurred in the outside world while he slept last night, what could've possibly caused his usually loud, ignorant best friend to be stunned into silence and oblivious to all of his surroundings. Could it have been related to the mission Inuyasha insisted on doing last night, during the new moon? Did he not succeed? Shippou doubted that; Inuyasha may've been an idiot at times, but he would never screw-up something like an assassination. But if not that, then what…?

Tapping his friend's shoulder, the kitsune murmured, "'Yasha, what's going on with you?" When there was no response, he continued teasingly, "You look like someone shot and killed your dog before revealing themselves to be your ex-girlfriend you still have feelings for but then she killed herself over the guilt of killing an animal right before your eyes and letting you know that she hated every part of your entire being." He bit his lip, at the same time, letting it quirk. "And, trust me, you'll probably start to look even worse than that if you don't cheer up soon."

Inuyasha gave no solid reply. Just slowly stirred his ramen absentmindedly, his amber eyes glazed over in thought. It looked as though he hadn't heard a word of what Shippou had just uttered, much less recalled that the boy existed. Even when Inuyasha wasn't looking at him, the younger mobster knew something was amiss in his eyes—they looked dull, echoing memories he couldn't see, emotions he didn't felt, emotions he_ did _feel.

Inuyasha looked dead.

Shippou sighed silently, leaning back in his chair. It was now obvious something was bothering Inuyasha, and the only way he would find out was for Inuyasha to utter it. However, the fox demon was clueless as to how he could stir such a reaction out of Inuyasha. His friend had never been very open about his feelings, only choosing to show them if he thought it was vital—if it was personal, he'd stay balled up like this. Thus, all Shippou knew was that Inuyasha was in a deep muse right now. "Hey, Inuyasha…" Said half-demon didn't retort, which made Shippou sigh. "Look, I don't know what's going on with you, but you've got to find some way to get past it."

Unexpectedly, Inuyasha's grip on his food utensils tightened, his eyes narrowing slightly yet, unbeknownst to his friend, dangerously. Even though he knew it wasn't the most positive reaction, Shippou was happy for any kind of response at the moment. He continued, "Look, if you want, we can go to the workout area and you can blow off some steam there—"

Without so much as a glance to the oblivious Shippou, Inuyasha stood up, knocking over his chair at the sudden force, and chucked his cardboard ramen cup into the trash without a second thought. His claws dug into the table, further marking his territory, as his jaw tightened. He snapped, speaking for the first time since his mission, "I killed some bitch's father, heard her cry for him with my own god-damned ears, and you just me to fucking '_work it off_'?" Scoffing, he sent the kitsune a pained glower, and as abruptly as he left his chair, he exited the room, fists clenched.

Shippou stared after him, disquieted, before throwing away the rest of his lunch and catching up with the half-demon, now understanding what was bothering his friend. After all, he knew what it was like to lose a parent—or two. Shippou, alongside Inuyasha, was also the only demon-blooded being in their mafia with a portion of a conscience; a reason why he preferred guarding rather than killing. Inuyasha was usually able to squelch it down, bury it within himself, and truly be rid of guilt—but last night being the new moon, his emotions' intensity increased tenfold, and most likely, held a much more striking effect than his half-demon form's. These emotions would echo, never fade without proper coping; they'd affect him just like they would an actual human. Emotions had never been a friend to Inuyasha, that much was apparent, but to see him so shaken up and bothered about something was rare, and only Shippou ever saw those sides if he was lucky. He knew with some help, Inuyasha could get past this particular assassination that was haunting him—though he was even more aware that something so similar to his memories, something so guilt-ridden, would never vanish easily. Because not only was he experiencing feelings of now, but then as well.

And even Inuyasha, as tough as he was, couldn't fight off those kinds of demons for long.

No one could.

* * *

_**Scene 5: "Change of Scenery"**_

_**(October 2nd, 11:58 PM,  
in Sesshoumaru's Office at FBI HQ)**_

_**

* * *

**_

Agent Takahashi stared blankly at his walls, alone in his high-end office, already having shushed away his annoying toad of an assistant Jaken. His coffee was steaming on his desk, the Higurashi woman already having prepared it earlier that morning for their group's staff lounge after she'd dragged herself out of the infirmary. It was a morning routine: everyone came into FBI HQ, field agents checking for missions and stats while others trained and the office workers went to their respectable areas, typing reports and researching for current tasks. Everybody, though they were very diverse in many ways, went to the staff lounge for Agent Higurashi's homemade coffee throughout the workday; it was a must-have for each morning, afternoon, evening, and night, plus a necessity for any person who'd come across its delectableness. Higurashi's desk was right outside the lounge, in fact, because of her coffee; whenever it ran out, she would immediately go inside and remake an entire pot, smiling and waving at everyone, a warm and welcoming quality about her that even this Sesshoumaru could not ignore. Yet, when he'd travelled there after her release from the medical wing shortly after nine, a strange determination yet tiredness surrounded her, almost like she was in an exhausted state but still forcing herself to be there. This was understandable. Sesshoumaru knew of what happened the previous night, of how she was apparently going through the streets until she spotted the latest Bullet-Neck Bill killing, as his Rin addressed it—

Ahh… _Rin…_

Suddenly, Sesshoumaru frowned to himself, glaring at the coffee mug a little over a foot away. Whenever he first drank it, it would always cause his mind to wander easily, adrift within his own thoughts. Smirking to himself, he assumed that could've been why Rin Hara was so talkative; she probably drank the Higurashi girl's coffee often. Perhaps the liquid had some sort of element or spice inside of it that increased the speed of brainwaves and jumbled its drinker's musings. He sniffed the air, his dog demon senses looking for something abnormal about it, but could find nothing except normal coffee grounds and other casual foods.

He recalled his meeting with Rin the previous day over the string of murders happening within the city lately. Though he wouldn't mind thinking over the charming woman, he focused on the case, remembering every little detail that it seemed only he and Higurashi, the once field agents, could pick up on. He could tell Higurashi drew up the conclusion of it being a demon mafia's work, and did research on the topic himself. Only one mob of the description was frequent with the area, having caused many break-ins, murders, robberies, etc.; their members were known to have patterns in their missions, such as a repeated way of killing, using the same entrance to places, and many other things as well. The FBI couldn't pull up much information, not even a _name_; obviously, this group had done their homework and made sure to leave no serious trace of their existence behind.

Last night's target had been a detective and private investigator living in the Takekawa District of the city, or the local neighborhood with numerous Japanese folk. Toshiaki Higurashi was born fifty years ago in Tokyo, Japan, on October first, also known as yesterday; his birthday was not only just that, but his death-day as well. His citizen files stated he had no family, so there wasn't anybody to call to inform of his demise. According to Medical Examiner Hara, he passed away at the stroke of midnight, the cause of death being a great loss of blood and brain failure. And Higurashi, apparently, had been taking a late night walk when she heard a gunshot, and hurried to check out the scene. She'd seen the man and comforted him in his last moments of life.

Of course, that's only what she said. This Sesshoumaru could easily tell she'd been lying during the questionnaire; her deceitful scent coated her hospital room, clogging his nostrils and choking his lungs when he'd stood outside her doorway. When Dr. Suikoutsu had asked if she had relations to the man, she lied. From that point and on, she kept up the act until the doctor left and her three friends—one including Rin—came down the hall. The Taijiya and Yamainu turned stiff upon seeing him, but Rin offered a smile and cheerily greeted him, reminding him of their noon meeting _he'd _set.

When his lips twitched again, he couldn't help noticing the forensic scientist's sudden look of horror and the linguist's repetition of her fellow workers' reactions from yesterday.

He didn't believe she partook in the murder; from her zombie-like behavior, she was obviously shaken up from the event, and from the strong aroma of salt ebbing from her face, he could tell she'd been crying quite a lot. Though he would never admit it to anyone, he did not see the truth behind Higurashi's lies, nor could he ever comprehend the investigation and how come she'd fibbed at all. Luckily, though, this case had not only been different because of the Higurashi woman's participation, but also because of a major detail.

They found evidence.

Strings of midnight black hair, to be exact, but evidence, nonetheless. It was a few strands located on a wall nearby the murder scene, but their group's forensic scientist ran a few tests on the DNA and contents of the hair, looking for used products of sorts. If they could find out the substances used on the hair, they could locate purchases in the area for that particular merchandise and see how much of the product was used in order to determine how much of it was left so they could estimate the time of its purchase. And after Yamainu's results came back, they'd fortunately know who'd killed Detective Toshiaki Higurashi.

Of course, Sesshoumaru's sense of smell already identified the scent: _Feudal Forest, _a rare shampoo for men imported from Japan. He was pleased to see there was a very small amount used, the aroma not being as strong as it should've been in the black tresses, which meant the purchase had been from a while back. Underneath the shampoo's odor lied the owner's, though Sesshoumaru's nose twitched in annoyance for some reason, which didn't make him press the matter of their identity any further. After all, the lab _would _be able to tell the correct results. Why waste such awesome ability on such a feeble thing when another could do the work for him?

However, he did take it upon himself to initiate an investigation on the building the most recent supply had been shipped to.

Smirking to himself, he took another sip of Higurashi's homemade coffee, awaiting a certain worker's arrival. As if on cue, a familiar scent suddenly wafted towards his room: a heavenly vanilla and lavender, mixed with a hint of nutmeg and firewood. A matching voice hummed, "Oh, hi! Good afternoon, Mr. Jaken! Or would it be morning, since it's a minute 'til— Oh, never mind, it just turned noon! But if it's noon, then I should be in Sesshy's office, because he told me to be in his room—"

"Just enter already!" croaked the toad demon from the other side of the door, most likely rubbing his temples in total aggravation. Rin, oblivious to his irritation, continued talking as she opened the door to Sesshoumaru's office, her beautiful scent growing stronger. Just like yesterday, she was wearing her lab coat unbuttoned, the outfit complete with pink crocs, pale jean capris, and a baby blue tank top. Memories of their meetings passed through his mind, and he felt his lips twitching as she finally told his assistant farewell before closing the door and skipping to the chair directly in front of him. Fearlessly, she met his eyes and smiled. He returned it, and she didn't seem the least surprised at the gesture like most FBI workers would have. This was what he already respected about Rin, the young newbie of crime-fighting and autopsying:

She wasn't intimidated by him. She wasn't afraid to be herself. She was happy, and the mood was contagious. She didn't analyze or judge him like most had, and instantly thought of him as her equal, a normal person. At that, she even _enjoyed_ his presence. Not even his mother could accomplish that.

The moment his topaz gems clashed with her chocolate pools, he easily let out the information she needed to know: his take on the evidence, his plans for the night, the investigation taking place, which agents would partake in it. Surprisingly, she'd merely listened, _oohing _and _awwing _over some parts whereas others she spent wide-eyed, as if she were a child told there was a cheesy pretzel as big as the Empire State Building. When he finished and her doe eyes contained a cute determination, he knew he had her.

And now, there was only one thing left for him to do.

"Rin."

"Hm?"

"Walk with me to the autopsy room."

"Yes, Sesshoumaru-sama!"

"Not you, you silly toad! Me—_Rin._"

"But Sess—"

"We're leaving, Rin."

"Okey-dokey, Sesshy!"

* * *

_**Scene 6: "An Intermission (Sort of)"**_

_**(October 2nd, 12:24 PM,  
in Dead Man's Lab at FBI HQ)**_

_**

* * *

**_

Sango was worrying over what the meeting was about, probably forming a permanent rut into the ground from all of her pacing, her ponytail swinging behind her as her magenta pools questioned the walls, hoping to receive an answer of some kind. Ayame was concerned as to whether her friends Rin and Kagome were okay or not as she nibbled on her red pigtails, emerald eyes focused on the suddenly interesting floor as she stood still. Hojo was apprehensive as to where Agent Higurashi had run off to, and if she was well, for she'd seemed shaken all day; he fidgeted in his computer chair, smoothing his boyish, brown hair numerous times as his blue orbs stared straight into the keyboard. And lastly, Rin was—

_Returning with Sesshoumaru by her side?_

Everyone in Dead Man's Lab came to a halt, blinking and rubbing their eyes as if they couldn't believe the sight before them. But before they could say anything, they choked on their breaths, swallowed on their tongues, and stumbled over their limbs.

Agent Takahashi was _smiling._

Hojo gulped, the sound echoing due to his Adam's apple. _Apocalypse, here we come. _He announced diffidently, "T-the results of the hair follicles came b-back, and it s-said that there were no m-matches." Sesshoumaru inwardly raised an eyebrow at the boy's social awkwardness before deciding it was unimportant, and focused on the fact laid out before them: as far as FBI and birth records went, no one contained such DNA as the one found in the black hairs. It was a rare situation, not finding a match for a DNA item, but at the same time, it opened a few doors. Had the perpetrator perhaps not been in birthing records? Unlikely, but it was still possible; some people went their whole lives without any legality. Also, it was a possibility that this was not a demon mafia at all, since a demon would not have been so careless as to get his hair caught on a roof antenna.

Rin, not minding their reactions or taking note of Sesshoumaru's ruminations (much less paying attention to the important information just given), announced, "We're going on a mission tonight, guys; every one of us!" They all stayed in shock, though Sesshoumaru merely stared into space thoughtfully. "All the girls will be acting, but the guys of the unit will be staying guard—and we need this to be as real as possible, which is why even non-field agents are participating!" They remained unresponsive. "There's a warehouse downtown; it's our lead to Bullet-Neck Bill!"

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was how Rin found out to knock people out of a strange, zombie-like stupor. It was also the first time Sesshoumaru chuckled with an audience, which promptly made Ayame faint, pulling down an unwilling Sango with her, while Hojo looked like he'd just seen the Grim Reaper himself.

* * *

_**Scene 7: "Things to Consider"**_

_**(October 2nd, 2:25 PM,  
at an Unidentified Warehouse)**_

_**

* * *

**_

Inuyasha tapped his seat impatiently, glaring at the wall across from him as he sat in a cool, bad-boy position on one of the nearby crates; one leg was almost drawn up to his chest while the other lied still, relaxed as one arm was draped over his knee, his head resting against the wall his back was straightened to. Glancing at Shippou, who sat on the smaller crate next to him, he felt remorse for snapping the way he did.

Out of everybody surrounding them, Shippou would be the only one to even slightly understand what he was going through—the boy was just too damn nice and innocent to have a black heart like most demons out there. In a way, Shippou was almost more of a human than a kitsune in his soul: forgiving, empathetic, and patient. Sometimes, it even scared Inuyasha how much of a good person Shippou was, though he hadn't seen enough _"things"_ to be dubbed officially as "mature", despite his parents' deaths many years ago. And recalling Shippou, too, knew what it was like to lose a close relative, Inuyasha felt even more guilty. Once again, out of everyone here, the fox truly _would _be the one to understand his situation. The half-demon made the mental promise to try to come clean after the gang meeting, though it wouldn't be anywhere near easy.

Menomaru stood before them again, a spark of business in his charcoal eyes. He then bluntly declared, "The boss says you've all done an exceptional job lately, so for tonight, you'll have be getting…_gifts._" At his smirk, most of the men cheered, whereas Shippou blanched at the epenthesis on "gifts" and Inuyasha's eyes narrowed as he resisted the urge to frown and snarl.

_"Gifts"… _As in women they'd be bringing, whether they be taken off the streets or traded with prostitution organizations. They were used for many purposes: cleaning, cooking, fucking, assisting in any means they could; it was almost as if they were slaves, though they were treated right—or more like provided for, anyways. Then, the moment they were deemed useless, they were shot and killed in order to prevent any information on their mafia being leaked to the feds. Inuyasha had never gotten a woman sexually—he was, after all, the only one who at least had some values left from his young life as a normal citizen (not to mention the idea of romance was uncomfortable)—but there'd been females who'd brought him water while he worked out, ramen when he was in his room, and sorted out the mess that'd _been_ his room.

Sadly, women had gotten so desperate to be paid and taken care of at each hideout that they'd _try _to seduce him, though they themselves seemed repulse of the idea of sex with a half-demon. He was used to the lower treatment by now—but he still didn't deal with it. After he killed a dragon demon who'd used the term "half-breed" to his face, people seemed to understand not to get on his bad side—or at least not take any chances and discuss him when he could've been within hearing range. Being the only half-demon there wasn't easy, either; he was one of the best damn mobsters and assassins they'd ever gotten, taken under the wing of their boss at the age of six, which made people respect him regardless of his blood. Yet there was still that heavy air at times that reminded him of just where he came from, who'd conceived him, because people couldn't forget that he was only _half _a demon.

And, of course, half wasn't ever enough.

Inuyasha sighed as Menomaru went into detail about the women, their arrival, their pasts—but the words flew right past him. He wondered if the glares would ever stop, if the gossip of him would one day die, if he could for once stop living within his own secrets and have more close friends than Shippou—_when _things could ever change for people of his heritage.

Exhaling again, he ran a hand over his face, now completely oblivious to anyone else's existence. He never knew where he stood with others or what would become of his future, if he would stay here forever or die with the mafia on his tail for trying to escape such a life with Shippou, the only other person who didn't belong here.

Dignity be damned, he didn't know anymore. He wasn't all that knowing, either, he supposed. At this point, even his own thoughts seemed to be like half-lies to himself. All in all, his life was just…too complicated.

And since when did he go all fucking angsty on himself?

* * *

_**Scene 8: "Buddha Bless Him and Help Us All"**_

_**(October 2nd, 12:45 PM,  
at the 9th Street Buddhist Church)**_

_**

* * *

**_

Kagome had never been christian, nor was she catholic, Jewish, atheist, or even Buddhist or Shinto despite her Japanese background. At that, she was born and raised in the Sunset Shrine of Tokyo, Japan, which was under the ownership of her Jii-chan, a Shinto priest. However, instead of participating in ceremonies as the shrine maiden or helper, she focused on her schoolwork, trying her hardest to get into a great college and get a high-paying job, such as her father's investigative missions with the local police and private favors from wealthy clients. Eventually, she did accomplish her goals, as her life was evidence of the matter now: if she'd not studied hard, she wouldn't have gotten into an Ivy League university in the United States, and would've never been offered a position in the FBI, thus permanently remaining in North America. Really, she wouldn't be who she was today.

Of course, though, she had to add with remorse, _But Daddy would still be alive, too… _

Willing back tears, the ex–field agent continued down the aisle in the only Buddhist church in the entire county. Back in Japan, services would be held in temples and shrines, but due to their rarity in the states and the oddness of seeing such a structure being cramped in with rundown apartments even if they were in the Takekawa District, the old church held two towers, many stories, and a modern-day christian look. Kagome had never attended its services before and wasn't beginning anytime soon, but she had to speak with someone on the inside. After all, her father wasn't the only one to followed her to America.

_Miroku. _The monk in-training back at Tokyo was too much of a brother to not also wish to watch over her in the English-speaking country.

They'd met a decade ago, both at the age of sixteen. Miroku was taking spiritual and philosophical classes at the nearby Buddhist temple due to some run-ins with local gangs and illegal activity, and instead of a court date, he was told to get in touch with Buddha in order to "relieve him of his sins". When they'd ran across each other, both were on their way home from either school or said lessons. After he'd hit on her and she slapped him, Miroku quickly apologized and insisted he make it up to her by taking her out for ice cream. Thinking it was his way of sneaking a date with her, Kagome initially declined—that is, until Souta had appeared out of thin air and declared they wouldn't let such a generous offer go to waste. Agent Higurashi never knew Miroku's true intentions for that day, but one thing was for sure: once they went out and talked, they became good friends and would never consider romantic relationships with one another. Miroku had become a part of the family, her non-blood brother, and when she announced her job offer in America, he was quick to drop a possible position as his old temple's priest and traveled to the United States with Detective Higurashi.

For the past four years, both men became Kagome's lifelines, teaching her all there was to know about crime and fighting it. Her father was an expert at catching crooks, helping her endure physical trials outside of her FBI training, and teaching her all there was to know about performing investigations, seeing between the lines and spotting the fine print, and recognizing hidden details such as his concealed message last night. Detective Higurashi also excelled in criminal psychology, so he often gave his eldest lessons on figuring out the bad guy's mind, motives, and intentions.

Miroku, on the other hand, taught her how to do, sadly, more _illegal _things—but with good reason. He was the one who pulled many strings when they moved to America, erasing important information from Kagome's file in case of "future complications". As far as the FBI and everyone else in the USA knew, Agent Kagome Higurashi was without family, as was Detective Toshiaki Higurashi; both of their files stated information about their relatives dying in Japan, their home nation, and these details were never questioned. Aside from sneaking hidden biographies out from underneath foreign country's noses, Miroku also taught her about the ways of worldwide mafias and how to make illegal documents, identities, etc. if the need ever came. Most importantly, he instructed her on what she should do if she was ever in trouble with the big guys, though the last detail was just for reassurance, since he was sure Kagome could never do anything wrong to get on someone's bad side.

As time passed, Miroku and Kagome depended on each other—her for criminal expertise and a friend who knew of her past, him for dating advice and news on what was happening right now in the country. Miroku and Toshiaki also contacted each other more, assisting each other with their own knowledge and the latter's cases. More or less, Kagome was pleased to have and know such close individuals with her outside of work, even if she didn't see them every week. Before today, the last time Kagome had really talked to Miroku was last month—quite awhile, though she'd been so swamped with her latest paperwork, he'd understood and let it go.

Sunlight streamed in through the windows of the 9th Street Buddhist Church, small chimes coming from the clinks of aluminum children's crafts hanging from shelves as the aging wooden floor creaked, announcing her presence to the cleaned, lemon-scented building. There wasn't a hint of dust on anything, nor any stains on the brown-cushioned, Japanese-styled benches facing a statue of Buddha and numerous jewels representing the seven chakras. Kagome smiled as she recalled Miroku's determination to buy the abandoned church and turn it into his own; it'd certainly exceeded her expectations. And as her father would say, "There's tons of detail to the place, that's for sure."

A door opened from behind the large god's replica, and Kagome smiled as her gaze met that of a rat-tail–haired man's indigo orbs. Upon seeing the woman he hadn't in days, Miroku Houshi broke out into a grin, his black and purple robes only grazing the ground ever so slightly as he ran to greet her. Kagome's forced-on smile nicked away somewhat as she remembered her reason for being here.

After an invitation to his home in the back, Miroku removed his purple coating—"It's looks so suffocating," Toshiaki would say, "Are you sure you wouldn't wanna become an Eskimo after wearing that…?"—and sat down in his black clothing, grinning as he watched his old friend poor herself some tea. Kagome tried to overlook his cheery attitude, guilty with herself for knowing she'd be the downfall to his wonderful mood today. _He's smiling so much… But this isn't a smiling subject…_

Her hands began trembling, the tea inside swishing around slightly, and Miroku noticed. "If you don't mind me asking, Kagome," he began, already having dropped calling her "miss" and "lady" long ago, "might you have came to visit me for a reason? It was quite unexpected, if I do say so myself, and I hadn't prepared for any company—"

"Miroku," she croaked softly, biting down on her lip.

He blinked, adjusting himself as he realized this was a grave manner. Something twisted in his gut as Kagome acted the role of a fish; mouth opening for a few seconds, but after failing at finding the right words, flopping shut. Her eyes would drop the moment they met his, and her hands were either still in the air or dead on her lap.

Silence embraced the good friends until Kagome's phone rang. She pulled it out of her pencil skirt's pocket, looking confused as she saw who called her. Usually, if the caller was female, it would be Rin, who thought everything was worth having a detailed conversation over, and at that, would call for _anything_. The only other woman who'd really call was Ayame, who, for some reason, assumed Kagome would love hearing about work at home. But, as of now, she could happily say that it was the first time she saw the name _Sango _printed underneath her phone's clock. Sango, the linguist who discouraged people using cell phones for personal calls on FBI grounds, was _calling _her. She quickly answered, taking short deeps before murmuring, "Hello?"

_"Higurashi!"_ Sango bellowed, obviously getting ready to scold the agent. _"Where are you? Why aren't you at work, hm? You're missing out on the news of a lifetime, and—"_

"What news?" Kagome inquired in a professional manner, avoiding Miroku's curious gaze as he listened in on the conversation, unbeknownst to her. She already felt bad for not being able to tell him, and now it'd only be worse to tell him after a work-related phone call—especially when work now involved her father's death.

_"We have a lead on Bullet-Neck Bill," _Sango announced, making Kagome almost drop her phone in surprise. Miroku was interested, never having heard of this before, while the agent went pale at the reminder of the case's latest victim. _"Agent Takahashi sniffed a lock of hair we found—"_

"Hair?" Kagome echoed, never hearing anything about _hair _being found at the scene. Was it evidence? Did they _finally _find something they could trace back to Bill?

Sango _mm-hmmed_, the sound of her nodding apparent to Kagome through the phone._ "Black hair, ninety-eight percent straight, and had a small amount of a Japanese shampoo called _Feudal Forest_—"_

"_I_ USE THAT!" Miroku declared excitedly, as if he were a teenage girl who just found out her new friend was born on her birthday. Kagome was horrified; if he went on making declarations such as that, Sango could've suspected him to be the killer since _Feudal Forest _was rarely found in the country for those who didn't originate from Japan. Kagome quickly cut him off with a heavy glare as Sango questioned her about the voice on the other line. She quickly reassured her it was just her friend going on about what condoms he used—a topic in which Miroku turned smug and announced quite loudly, "I don't use them; they're too small for me."

Ignoring him and Sango's yelling _pervert! _at the priest, Kagome mused over a previous thought she had. Feudal Forest… _Rarely owned by those who never lived in Japan… _Something clicked then, but she kept quiet about her sudden epiphany as Sango finished her rant about idiots, insisted he back away from the phone since they were talking about "serious matters", and sighed. _"We ran tests, and apparently, there's no DNA like it in the system—none, like, not even _close_." _Before Kagome could question further on that area of interest, Sango continued,_ "But Agent Takahashi analyzed the hair before we confirmed the results, and it turns out, he's right—"_

_"This Sesshoumaru says you have no freedom to sound so shocked about his sense of smell's accuracy,"_ a stoic voice interrupted from Sango's line, and an indignant cry escaped the linguist from being interrupted once again. Kagome was at first stunned to hear him speak up and add, in her opinion, an unnecessary comment until she heard Rin's giggling and teasing him from the other line. At the smile in his voice, she wondered if Rin had really managed to bring out the side of him no one could within two days until she realized even if Rin did it, he would maintain his usual behavior when she wasn't around.

Overlooking Sesshoumaru's statement for the most part, Sango continued, _"But he's right about it being _Feudal Forest_, and we've already located the last place a shipment around a month ago took place. It's at a warehouse down south, near the outskirts of the city, and we believe it to be the hideout of a demon mafia that visits town often and has gotten on our case a lot. We don't have much information on them, but tonight, you and every other physically trained worker in our unit is being called onto the field tonight—men will be standing guard in the outer forests surrounding the warehouse whereas women, or _us_, will be playing the role of money-obsessed, materialistic hookers, whores, and prostitutes."_

Kagome dropped the phone and Miroku's smile instantly fell, but only after they heard,

_"So, congrats. You're gonna avenge that Toshiaki Higurashi detective's death from last night. I don't know why you were crying for him, but I know that in over ten hours, we'll be partying in Hell."_

_

* * *

_

_**Scene 9: "Moon Child"**_

_**(October 2nd, 11:32 PM,  
in the Party/Bar Room at an Unidentified Warehouse)**_

_**

* * *

**_

Inuyasha took an elongated sip of his whiskey, not in the mood for anything alcoholically weak right now. His mind still wandered to the previous night, his guilt slowly dissipating, but the remorse for doing the one thing he hated most haunted him to no end. He was half-demon; eventually, human emotions that weakened him wore off within good time, such as a few hours, and it'd somewhat impressed him that his grief existed for about a day since it usually took less. Slowly, he was turning back into his gruff self—but the scars of his actions would always be a sensitive spot, one he would rather bury deeper than bring out and let it bleed freely.

Inuyasha may've been half a human, but he wasn't a god-damned wimp.

The party and bar room had been built a little bit over five years ago, around the time he returned the legal drinking age. Its small neon lights pulsed every so often, the windows painted black in this particular area as to avoid anyone passing by to mistake it for an illegal rave. Music played, though due to demons' sensitive hearing, was playing only loud enough for them to talk over it. The group of gangbangers didn't use the room all that often, but when they did, it was to celebrate newly obtained "gifts" or the success of an important task—tonight, the reason probably being prior. As of the moment, Inuyasha was at the warehouse's bar counter, Shippou having ran back to his room for some pocky to "get this show on the road", leaving him to fend for himself against the many sluts surrounding them. He sat still in his stool, everyone partying around him with their newly arrived whores, some of whom had their gazes gliding over his body as slickly as oil.

The women had come to the warehouse over an hour ago, received a grand tour of the place, and of course were filled in on the rules—but not being informed of their fates if they wanted to quit, slacked off, or plain, old sucked at their jobs. Every demon had at least two women, except Shippou, Inuyasha, and a few select others, who either weren't in the mood or into that stuff. Some females were at the bar, others standing on the sidelines, and only four were without men, though the small foursome had dispersed some time ago. The four without masters would probably be allowed to stay the night, though quickly killed off in the morning to avoid information leaks, the typical stuff. _Oh, well, _Inuyasha thought, remembering how they stuck together like glue, holding onto each other as friends and lifelines. _Guess they'll die as friends, too._

Inuyasha downed another shot, the alcohol burning his throat slightly, though it wasn't enough to make him even slightly drunk, never mind ditsy. He stared blankly at the shelves before him, the planks and cupboards stocked with beer (a sportsman's preferred drink), wine (a businessman's choice), vodka (a mobster's favorite), and whiskey (a depressed man's pick). The seats were not cushioned, so his butt had deadened after awhile, and the lights and pulsing beats of the music—rap, techno?—gave him a thudding headache, much like a hung-over bitch's mood in the morning.

He really didn't like to share how he exactly knew that.

"Inuyasha!" He rapidly turned to the sound of his best friend's voice, not helping the blank look from appearing in his eyes. Stuffing his candy into his jeans, Shippou frowned upon noticing his state and the twelve empty shot glasses in front of him. "You aren't going to drink any more alcohol, are you?" the kitsune asked, slightly concerned. He probably didn't want Inuyasha depressing himself yet again, after all.

The twenty-six-year-old shrugged casually, managing a smirk that at least lessened his non-blood brother's worry. "Keh, drinking ain't gonna take me down," he insisted, and upon hearing the Inuyasha-like remark, Shippou calmed immediately, plunking himself onto the stool next to him, careful of his few fox tails.

The stench of drugs of all kinds weighed heavily in the air, and Inuyasha couldn't get a clear reading on anyone's scent except Shippou's, whose he'd grown too familiar with to not notice. The "bartender", also known as dumbass Gatenmaru, had ran off with some no-name, leaving the drinks unattended and Inuyasha free to drink as much as he wanted. Even if he was of age, Shippou wouldn't ever think of drinking since his parents had always discouraged it; Inuyasha, on the other hand, liked how the taste at least distracted you enough to drag you out of your problems for a little while and loosen up your nerves. The half-demon jumped over the counter, landing in front of the vodka cabinet and whiskey barrel. Not really caring about his health at the moment, Inuyasha grabbed a large root beer mug and scooped up as much whiskey from the tub as possible, filling it halfway before adding vodka to the mix. Would it taste horrible? Maybe. Would it take his mind off his problems?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

Taking a long swallow of the horrific-tasting combination, he turned back and gave Shippou a wide grin. The fox demon had seemingly leaned forward to watch him, but unexpectedly, wasn't focused on his mentor, but a girl below him on the floor. Inuyasha felt somewhat stupid for not noticing her there before—she may've been hiding behind the counter, but she was nearby, and at that, had either been in front of or behind him despite which side of the counter he was on; he should've caught up on her scent or something. Then, smelling his drink, he realized he may've not been able to smell her over the high sensation of alcohol overtaking his system.

"You really shouldn't be drinking that much," Shippou said to the long, straight, light-haired girl, who just stared at the floor between her knees, three empty beer bottles beside her while one remained in her hand. Inuyasha agreed; that alcohol was made for demons, not humans, so drinking one of those babies was like two beers in one. "You said your name was Katrina, right?" Instead of giving Shippou a solid answer, she remained quiet, lifting her head to take another chug out of her beer, revealing her eyes to be a dull brown. Then her gaze returned to the floor, never once showing any sign of life as she didn't acknowledge Shippou's words or Inuyasha's presence in front of her.

Inuyasha shared a look with Shippou, who shook his head in return. The half-demon sighed before lowering himself to her level, trying to find her aroma over the rest. When he came across it, he recognized the cherry blossom, honey suckles, peaches, and apples—she was one of the four women meant to be killed the following morning. _That sucks _was all Inuyasha could manage to think. Did Katrina know of her and her friends' fates? Is that why she was drinking as if there was no tomorrow—because, for her, there truly wasn't?

"Oi, wench," he muttered, though she did not stir. Shippou exchanged another look with Inuyasha, who rolled his eyes at her numbness to the world and tapped her knee, making her head snap up and her eyes clash with his own. For a moment, he wondered if he'd seen her somewhere before, until he regained composure and mumbled, "You wanna die of alcohol poisoning or something?"

She seemed confused at first, tilting her head to the side questioningly. It was a purely childlike gesture, and because of it, he wondered how a seemingly innocent Japanese—_yes_, she was Japanese—girl had somehow managed to get herself involved in this business. But when he glared and his gaze drifted to the little pile she was making, she gasped, as if it'd suddenly hit her she was practically drinking herself to death—

"I'm so sorry for making a mess!"

—or not.

Inuyasha's eyes narrowed dangerously, wondering if she was _really _concerned about that, and not her freakin' health. "Why the fuck are you drinking?" he groaned, grabbing her empty bottles, each of their noses stuck in-between his fingers. He raised an eyebrow when she didn't respond instantly, her gaze having already returned to the floor, as if she was ashamed. "Well?" he growled.

Shippou couldn't hide his surprise; Inuyasha had been moping an hour ago, gaining some traces of himself a few minutes earlier, but now when he came across a woman drunk, he suddenly became Inuyasha again? It was interesting, watching the woman Katrina, whom they just met, already snap Inuyasha out of his daze. Shippou looked up, saw Inuyasha's feral look, and decided right then was a good time to take another break from the party and go the restroom. Katrina and Inuyasha barely noticed the kitsune's departure, him focused on making her answer his damned questions and she being too busy trying to vanish into thin air.

Inuyasha remained glaring at her, wondering what the bitch's problem was. Obviously, she hadn't heard from anyone else what happened to the last idiot who drank too much demon beer: threw their guts up before dying of alcohol poisoning. _Then again… _He glanced at his shots, suddenly remembering how much stronger whiskey was than beer. _I might be going down with her. _Tossing the bottles aside, he chucked the one beside her, the one she was still drinking, into the recycling bin, catching her attention. She didn't seem to notice her drink's absence; she just stared at the bin blankly, looking truly bewildered about something. That moment, she made Inuyasha laugh for the first time in a long time.

"Mobsters recycle?"

She obviously couldn't wrap her finger around that fact, and it amused him to no end. "Yes," he said slowly, as if she had trouble understanding him. She frowned at that before then realizing he'd rid her of her alcohol. When she sent him a chilling glower, he just smirked in pleasure, much to his own astonishment. Was it just him, or was making fun of her better than moping around about last night?

"My name is Katrina Hamilton," she suddenly said, extending her hand out to shake his. He was a little surprised at the formal gesture—one in her business would often jump him instead of shaking his hand—but shook hers, nonetheless, with a smirk on his face as he answered in response,

"Inuyasha."

After grabbing two waters—one for her, one for him—Inuyasha drank away the taste of whiskey and vodka on his tongue. Katrina tried to, complaining a little to herself about how weird it tasted to mix beer and water, and he teased her by saying she was too much of wimp to handle different flavors. She must've taken that as a challenge, because she quickly made sure to keep her face impassive whenever she took a sip of her now almost empty bottle. They talked of normal things: the night scene, his friend Shippou, her friends Karin, Sandra, and Aimee; they both strayed away from the topics of their families. Inuyasha did find out that she was drinking because she was "just a little sad", though the abyss in her eyes spoke volumes. He repeatedly made fun of her, and she had smart comments back—one of which was her best yet.

"So what if my hair looks fake?" she snapped, giving him a quick glare. "Your ears do, too, dog-boy." Twitching the appendages for her in reassurance, she shook her head and mumbled something among the lines of "technology sure has advanced these days".

He didn't really have a comeback for that one.

"So, how'd you get into this business?" she asked casually, taking another sip of her water, though her nose still twitched from the taste of it and alcohol. Inuyasha had visibly stiffened, but she barely noticed with her slightly drunken haze. Muttering something about his mom dying, her muscles tensed as well, and suddenly, silence consumed the two and their nonchalant conversation. Both somewhat missed the banter they made over the talk of the demons nearby, who were currently having a "drink the tequila off this hottie's body" contest, their heated conversations that seemed important when they were really over trivial things, and even the small arguments they made. So, Inuyasha said something to wipe away the serenity, starting a _passionate _"tête-à-tête", one of which was occurring at the moment.

"I'm not a whore, you stupid overgrown puppy!"

"Then why the fuck you here, wench?"

"Did you just call me 'wench'?"

Yes. This "heart-to-heart" was very, _very _passionate indeed.

"Do ya _always_ avoid questions you're asked?"

"Why are you avoiding my question?"

"Why are _you _avoiding _mine_?"

Shippou came in around that time, surprised to see them moping less, and finally was formally introduced to Katrina. He would've engaged in conversation with her since she seemed much more friendly, but even Inuyasha was taking a risk for talking to her; the whores given to them, after all, were supposed to be there to do their job, not make friends with the gangbangers. Shippou tugged on Inuyasha's sleeve, whispering something in his ear that made the half-demon stand up and go to a secluded area—or, more specifically, out in the abandoned hallway.

The moment they were outside, Shippou's eyes went wide and he hissed, "What're you, 'Yash? Insane? Suicidal?"

The half-demon knew what he meant: why had he taken the chance of talking to the girl as if she were his equal, why drink his worries away, etc. on the long list of what Shippou worried about. "Fuckin' god, relax," Inuyasha grumbled, leaning against a plastered wall. "I'm leavin' the warehouse for a couple of days, anyway." After his friend screamed an indignant _WHAT?_, Inuyasha's ears flattened in displeasure as he glowered at the fox demon. He explained, "'Cause of my distance and sudden depression, short-shit; they ain't gonna take that too lightly, and even if they do, I'm not gonna be off the hook. They'll think I'm with the feds or something if I stay, so I'm gonna take one of those 'mandatory vacations'."

Shippou frowned, his usually naïve face downcast. "I don't get it," he admitted bluntly.

"Dammit, Shittou!" Inuyasha ran an angry face over his frustrated expression, as if to wipe away his irritation. "Think of it this way: They're going to wonder why I was all freakin' 'fuck my life' for most of today, and then they're going to assume the worst if I stay and relapse into that shit. If I finally take the fucking vacation that's been on my schedule for _two decades _and say I want to visit my father or some shit, they won't only be happy to have me gone, but they won't have the chance to figure out I snuck out last night."

From the half-demon's abundant curses, Shippou understood his determination and sincerity in the matter, nodding in agreement. Never mind the strangeness of him finally taking a break after twenty years. Never mind the fact that suspicion could possibly grow. Both just knew that right then, at the moment, this was the best thing to do.

"I'm driving Katrina to wherever she lives, too," Inuyasha announced, making Shippou choke on air. "Yeah, it's pretty stupid, but she's an okay bitch." At Shippou's look of astonishment for accepting the girl, he added, "I also _really_ wouldn't like to feel guilty for imagining what her execution was like while I'm away."

Shippou rolled his eyes. Of course Inuyasha would do this for a bit of a selfish reason. Said mentor glided down the hallway and to his room to pack, leaving Shippou to go retrieve the girl. The kitsune sighed, staring at the space he once stood. _Of course _I'm _left behind to do what he should…_

Katrina sat still, her back pressed against the bar counter while her butt began to numb on the planked floor. She wondered when and if Inuyasha and Shippou would get back; they seemed to be the most civilized and humane demons out of the entire mafia. Her eyes strayed to her friends to check their mental status report and see how they were doing. Karin was currently dancing in a bubbly-like manner with a youthful and naïve wolf demon who'd introduced himself as Hakkaku, and Aimee was talking heatedly with Hakkaku's brother Ginta, who seemed astounded by the fact that Aimee, too, was a wolf-demon. Sandra was arm-wrestling with some guy named Byakuya, and thus far, she was winning and men were offering her shots and alcohol, no doubt attempts to get her drunk and within their beds.

The lone girl behind the bar smiled to herself, glad to see they were taking care of themselves and weren't being violated—yet. At the added thought, she frowned slightly, but noticing the nice demons who'd taken in her two weakest friends and remembering how strong Sandra was, she wasn't too worried for them, especially when she recalled their plans for the night and their security on the outside. To be honest, Katrina hadn't expected to befriend anybody; the instant she'd laid eyes on the bar was the moment she decided she'd drink herself to sleep while reveling in the past—before last night. Apparently, the kitsune Shippou had been talking to her, though she hadn't noticed them until Inuyasha had tapped her knee.

_Inuyasha… _That was a strange name, she'd mused. Then again, he was also a strange person—not really the Red Delicious surrounded by the Granny Smiths, but more of odd in his own way, weird because of different character when compared to mafia members around them. He hadn't tried to jump her, so she assumed he was like Hakkaku and Ginta; he wasn't the type of mobster to use her for what she was needed for, but he didn't look as innocent as the wolf demon brothers.

With some sort of annoyed tenacity she could not recognize, Shippou appeared, walked over, helped her off the ground, and told her Inuyasha was going to drive her home. _Home, _Katrina thought, her finger tracing the creases in her water bottle as she agreed silently, letting him escort her out of the party room. She couldn't turn him down or insist her friends come along because he'd suspect something, and that was the last thing she needed. _I don't really have a home anymore. _She let out a monstrous sigh, closing her eyes.

_Daddy…_

_

* * *

_

_**Scene 10: "A Mix-Up Beyond Messed-Up"**_

_**(October 3rd, 12:15 AM,  
at an Unidentified Warehouse)**_

_**

* * *

**_

Menomaru was a moth demon; most overlooked this fact, thinking it to be a normal type, when in fact, moth demons were one of the most rare kinds out there. He did not wish to let this fact be known to those who weren't aware of it in his boss's gang due to infrequent demons being much more of a threat to the common ones. So, his many spies were surrounding the mobsters at every moment, because of them underestimating his power each second of the day.

Oh, how wrong they were.

Smirking to himself as he stared out into the night, he stood guard over the building, moths fluttering about his air. His feet wavered on the ledge as he reigned the night as his, gaze drifting over the forest when a breeze strolled by. Accompanied by a scent he knew well, Menomaru asked coolly, "Why do you wish to bother me, Gatenmaru?"

The intruder mafia member panted, making Menomaru momentarily confused. Had he ran here to the roof? Like his superior, Gatenmaru was also a moth demon, and due to this fact, served under his lord. Moth demons weren't known for their incredible running skills, however, which was why Menomaru was bewildered as to why his weakling had _ran _up here.

Gatenmaru wheezed between catching his breath, "Moths—_gasp_—heard—_wheeze_—something."

Menomaru offhandedly thanked him for coming to tell him that.

Then Gatenmaru fainted.

Turning to the creatures that'd arrived, Menomaru demanded, "Show me what you saw." On command, the insects went on his skin, releasing poisonous-to-human powder that translated images. Grinning to himself maliciously, the head murmured, "So, Inuyasha was not in his dorm last night? It's a shame he could not reveal more; I'm sure the boss would've loved to do less work. And what's that? Inuyasha is taking his vacation and driving one of our whores home. Ahh…lovely."

As quickly as they came, the bugs scattered, leaving Menomaru baffled once more until another figure jogged into sight. He growled. What was with everyone intruding his territory, his alone time, especially when he was guarding the hideout?

"Menomaru," the boss greeted him calmly, and the mobster's fuming perplexity quickly dissolved. "The party room and bar is currently having a gun fight, caused by one of the prostitutes who just arrived. Blond hair, brown eyes—a face that's Heaven-sent. Katrina, I think her name was." Recalling the girl, the moth demon nodded, making his boss continue. "Strangely enough, she's only killing off the other whores around her—a few have merely been shot while others have escaped, revealing an elite team of FBI agents hiding out in the woods. As we speak, Katrina is leaving with Inuyasha as an escape."

Menomaru, despite his high level of testosterone, gasped squeakily. "You mean—"

"Inuyasha is a traitor," the boss stated simply, taking the news lightly. "He has a bag with him, obviously quitting the gang, and his wench, Katrina, is a FBI agent, along with the other whores in the warehouse. Her real name is Kagome Higurashi; she's the pest-detective's spawn." Menomaru blinked, shocked, while his superior went on. "Inuyasha has been disloyal to the mafia. Katrina has disobeyed orders and killed her fellow agents. All in all, whether it be us or the feds?

"They'll die for their betrayals."

* * *

**A/N: **I wanted to write more on Inuyasha and Kagome's conversation, but this chapter was getting too big. -.-' To be honest, it _sucked _writing the angst. Really. I was in a really happy and humorous mood, so I had to DEPRESS myself in order to write it. Well, I hope you're happy with your _damned _chapter… *grumbles, mumbles, mutters complaints and negative comments* Next up shall be, _Act III: Unlikely Fugitives_.


	3. Important AN: I'm not quitting

**This is a very important author's note. **I'm posting this to all my ongoing stories that haven't been updated for about a year now, and I suggest you don't ignore it.

I haven't updated in forever; I'm well-aware of this, but unlike most authors, I'm adamant against using A/N chapters in stories - I hate them with a passion, which is why I only use my profile to say I'm busy and so and so and will not be updating anytime soon. My procrastination habits are hard to overcome, but to be honest, overall this past year, I've gotten lazy, and I'm sorry. However, one reviewer as of recently thought the section on my profile stating my withdrawal from fanfiction was permanent, that I'd never go back to it. Or maybe he/she thought I was going to be like another popular author, KeiChanz (who's one of my faves, by the way), and rarely update. He/she suggested I either cancel my stories or hand them off to others, but you know what?

Fuck that. I'm not letting someone else continue my stories, and I'm sure as hell not going to cancel them and make you go "Y U NO FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED?" I am finishing these, but due to the changes in my life, on my own time. I'm a determined person who starts new projects with admirable gusto, and then leaves them to rot. I don't want to do that to you, though - and I figured since me not informing you of this bothered the reader so much, I'd better just tell you about it now rather than wait for you to wander to my profile. It goes against my beliefs of not using A/Ns as chapters, making me a hypocrite, but seriously - if it bothers the reader that much, I'm here to tell you right now, wait for me if you can. I'm deeply sorry for not being able to work on these every day or write with passion like I used to, but I'm trying to undergo a deeper self-discovery.

Through writing, I escaped my life and remained evasive to my problems - and now, without it, I will face things head on; I will become the person I want to be. And I still write - just random things, like poems, or little vignettes of my time with others. But if I continue to make fanfiction the center of my life, I will never live and be happy. I will eventually balance things out to where I want be with those I care for constantly and be able to involve myself in another world and write, but for right now, I need a big break from FFN. One where I don't reply to messages or reviews and I get out there and live the one life I have.

I will never quit fanfiction. It's fun, it's helped me out of a deep depression, and it's assisted me in discovering who I am. I've made a lot of friends and found out new things, and I will never quit it. I will update, I will finish my current stories, and guess what? I _will _post new stories as well. However, I'm focusing on getting a life right now because I'm in high school, have been single my whole life, and added to this, have much to experience. I want to live, love, and learn to make writing my passion, not my unnoticeable escape. But seriously - I won't quit. Whether I be a modern-day nomad or living with my husband when I'm older, I'll still be on here, still talking to you and learning more. For more information on my writing and updating, you can always check out my profile, but really?

I'm tired of running. I want to live my life. And, when my life gets to where I want it to be, updates will become more frequent instead of every few months. Wouldn't that be beautiful? Oh, and I apologize again for not updating, but understand that my overall happiness is at stake here. Writing isn't my main focus in life - teaching is now - but I plan to still do it since it's always been an outlet for me. I'm just trying to stop escaping my life by making writing my main focus, you know? If you don't like this new occurrence and want to punch me in the face for this false update (I would), I understand. If you're the same as the last sentence, but are still willing to give me yet another chance to redeem myself, much thanks.

Remember: I will never quit. Quitting is for pussies, which I am not, and to become a stronger person, I need to stick with what I start. I'm not mad at this reviewer - this was rather eye-opening - but to say the least, I feel like the shittiest person alive for all I've done to my dedicated readers and the people in my life. I've been selfish; it's unforgivable, but I will still always apologize. Thank you for reading, and I hope you don't mind waiting. (You probably will, but that's what your father's rifle is for.)

Sincerely, purduepup - aka, Morgan Williams


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